Blindentaubenwerkannmirhelfengasse

A story. Again. A gain. A loss. At a loss?
A man was walking down the street and he saw somebody's past go past that he thought was his own. He walked into a cage, stuck. People like to look at freaks in cages, but they didn't afford him a glance. He danced, nothing. He tried shouting, nothing. A flower floated and landed by his cage. He looked at it. It said “hello” and flew off. Was never meant to stay.
There was a small kid drawing on a wall in the background. The man saw him and opened the cage door. He went home. Home was a dark hole in a wall not dissimilar to the one the kid was drawing on. It was dull. He sat in there instead and nobody saw him. Just sat laying out a stick every hour with his egg timer, to count down the days. He started to wonder when these days would go without him. Whether he could start something new, or do something he knew, or drink lots and dance and get noticed like he didn't in the cage and thought of all the things he'd love to do but never really could because he didn't believe that it would make a blind bit of difference, when he thought about it.
Not a blind bit of difference