How dare you
call yourself a lion when you can't even RAWRR?
Refusing to acknowledge that this World means War
you nest, numbing your mind endlessly in a frenzy of instant gratifications;
Thoughtlessness and simplicity wipe clear your imagination.
No desires can overcome the ease you plead
as you sit back and watch the real lions bleed;
In discomfort they hunt, a discomfort you cannot concieve,
due to your lack of willpower, yet powered by greed;
You want everything effortlessly
you've never met the mental motivation,
Blaming your struggle on the world's spiteful discrimination.
But a true lion knows fate does not lie in the sense of entitlement,
it's ceaseless bloodshed even in the fields of abandonment.
The endowment of a lions heart will forever live
honoring the fight, an unwritten doctorine.
The curtains can be drawn for the catalyst within,
even for you, an undeniably implosive sin.
So I dare you,
let down your pride
and commence the prowl,
before you forget how to graze,
and perpetually foul.