Pride

The lion lying in the plain had lied
The lyin’ lion’s family had tried
To find the prey that he had said he’d spied
Afar from fields where lions ought reside

The lion claimed he could not be their guide
His brother, baring fearsome fangs, defied
Suspecting secrets he had hid inside
By worry was his brother’s love belied

He knew that if she knew, that she would chide
(The lioness he meant to make his bride)
But he could not confess, could not confide
If she had known, she would not have complied

The human hunters he had seen arrived
The ones from which he helped his fam’ly hide
The secret into which his fam’ly pried
A shot rang out; the lyin’ lion died

The tears of all his kin have not yet dried.
He lost his life; he never lost his Pride.

(NOTE: This poem was commissioned by Twitter user @VapingSonic, who suggested that I write about a lion's pride. It was written as a prize in @SirEviscerate's Night of Too Many Tweeters 2, a charity fundraiser for the Autism Self-Advocacy Network. Originally, the prize was intended to be a sonnet, but I went a little overboard.)

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