Oh, how it hurts my heart to see you
Pacing in the false freedom
Of your open cage.
(Though I do know it’s for the best,
You’re dying in the wild, you know.
There are so few, so your prison
Is what keeps you alive, though not free.)

To me, you are a warrior.
A survivor.
In my karate dojo, 
You mean speed and  deadly accuracy
And paw-shaped hands with extended knuckles;
A counter strike to a tiger’s claw.
You have my respect,
To inspire your own fighting style.

But now you pace,
And look at me
And I can feel our similarities;
Sometimes I’m an endangered species.
Sometimes I am caged,
And sometimes I can be a warrior.

So we pace...