Nate Flying Owl (01/07/88 / Milwaukie, OR)
Within the far depths of a moonless night,
A pride stirs among the dancing shadows.
The herd is not aware of the danger,
And their movements leave a young one exposed.
Moving as silently as possible,
The pride focuses on her and moves in.
Driving her further away from her kin,
Taking her life with remorseless hunger,
Without mercy, without a second thought.
What else can be expected from a king?
Comments about this poem (Lion Pride by Nate Flying Owl )
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