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.