Long Live The King
- baccusdestini
- Feb 15
- 1 min read
Long Live The King
Little lion cubs,
Torn to shreds.
Teeth-tenderized pink flesh,
Blood as red as a disa uniflora,
Scattered onto sun-dried grass.
A path of death stared by a fallen king,
A lion, male, with a mane of termite black,
Leaks noble viscera from its mutilated throat.
ROAR!
Lioness, as still as whistling thorns,
At the end of the path,
Do not stop the other.
The other, another male lion,
But with a mane of dung brown,
Sashays around them.
Leaving sticky burgundy pawprints in the dirt,
His sharp muzzle and teeth dyed a sunset pink.
Commentaires