Damn these infernal bars, keeping me prisoner.
How did I end up here, anyway? None of this was my fault. I didn't ask to be kept here, indefinitely, not knowing when I will get my freedom.
They bring me food every day, of course. Can't be seen to make me starve. That wouldn't look good.
I awake in my own faeces, brush myself down and venture once more to the bars of my cell.
I look out. I can see them. Sat there on the sofa, cooing at me. Christ, they're predictable.
I'm going on my wheel for a run.