“The King of the Jungle”,
The coordinator
Of the forest’s Royal Rumble.
He that takes apart
And never assembles.
He stands and stares
As the life of his subordinates crumble.
He proudly displays
Beautiful stripes
Without stars.
But stars come with these stripes
In the eyes of his prey
As he prays
Whispering his last wishes
To the god of the forest
Not to let this strong king
Who lurks before he knocks
On the door of his life
To take it away
Beauty lies not on the skin;
It dwells in the heart.
Love does not glow from the eyes,
It flows from the heart.
Cos if these traits were superficial,
King Tiger came to earth
After a facial.
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