Green Prince

*The Prince was desperately alone. He felt rotten. The cage he inhabited was filthy. The air was vile in and of itself. Conditions mattered little. They only dug in when he was present, and he rarely was. His mind wandered. In the absence of sound, with only the occasional grunt of a trapper or flap of wing. Sorrow drew which coiled about his shell. It was his to bear. He did so with the grace of a prince. He had grown a certain level of apathy toward the idea of escape.*