It’s so hot in here I can hardly breathe. The lights are always on, there’s no room to stretch my wings and I’m tired of eating. I can’t move, I can’t dust-bathe, I can’t perch, I can’t squawk, I can’t investigate, smell fresh air, watch the sun set or rise, I will never see my eggs turn into chickens, and have proper friends and family.

 

But I can eat. It’s the only thing to do. In fact, I’m getting so fat I can hardly stand anymore and my heart is hurting. It beats so quickly sometimes I think I’m going to faint. When it’s like this all I’d like to do is get some peace and quiet to recuperate. But that’s impossible. It’s too bright and noisy. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t been born. Or I wish I’d been born to a different life. This life is no life. I am a prisoner condemned to a living coffin. Nobody cares, nobody understands.

 

I hurt all over from the pecks I’ve received from my cellmates. But they hurt too. In fact, we’re all hurting and we don’t know what we did to deserve this pain. Did we do something bad? Why were we born in the first place? What purpose does our life have if we can’t do the things we were designed to do? Why can’t we get out of here? Why can’t we be free? What is going on?

 

I’m a chicken. But I don’t do the things chickens are supposed to do. You see, I’m stuck in a cage and have been for all of my life. I don’t know why I’m here, but there are an awful lot of other chickens here like me with the same question. All my life I’ve lived in a cage with eleven other chickens. We’re not really friends. We’re so unhappy we don’t know how to be friendly.