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

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