A lion’s mane
Is his crown
I thought
That if it were shaved
It’d be frowned upon
The longer the better
Greasy, stringy
In summer weather
Winter wouldn’t know
That longer isn’t
What’s in fashion
So the lion was shaved
In such unbeatable heat
That forges envied
With a shave, dethroned
A lion lost
A mere symbol
But a crown doesn’t
Make royalty like claws
And roars quite do
Status symbol?
Maybe so. But not so much
As to replace strength in raw
A lion may kill the same
With a short mane
As with the longer one
Still blood enough
Covers his pride to remind
Them he is king
Consume Reality! 