My tears ran down my face,
whilst I was at the zoo,
as I saw three skinny lions,
I sobbed, “look at you!”
Their usual amber eyes,
bore a hue so deathly grey,
struggling to even rise,
to save some sort of day,
thus, tired, angry, still,
their gaze, fell on me,
telling me, that I was ill,
pictured epiphany,
they said “we’re a broken sign,
lying in the sand,
if we could, we would dine,
to make a better land!”
My feeling began to change,
from pity in to fear,
ensuring content was not so strange,
nothing would interfere,
muted roars told me straight,
of poor maintenance,
where love’s redefined as hate,
by such discountenance,
from the war of those flowers,
to a minister showing bias,
a symbol, that had all the powers,
told me, I was callous,
my pockets were so empty,
as clearly, I had spent,
a “true spokesman” of the country,
that in soul, up sticks and went,
then a split screen was made,
by their snarls, and my weeps,
we searched for god, in the shade,
but no-one was there to sweep,
I then looked around; to see,
other emblems in their cage,
built by us, humanity,
such a cruel sustained rage,
golden eagle, was so grounded,
brown bear, was wearing blood,
and a Hoopoe, I saw pounding,
its own kind, in neighbourhood,
but, with cold human practice,
I left; wiping, to ignore,
an “accidental” malice,
that has made such a war!