"In the shadows, there she is,"
said the little girl, all giggles,
pointing at the critter,
stuck in a cage for a sad show.
"Boring!" shouts the little girl,
"I thought you liked lions," mom says.
"Not anymore, lasts weeks thing.
Now they're just meh, not cool."
They stroll away, leaving the little lion,
taking a breath, her smile drops.
Now she's by herself,
thousands of miles from home.
But weirdly, it feels right,
being alone in this cramped space.
"What am I now? Same old cage,
no distractions, just me, alone."
No one to rescue,
no one knows my scars, my tears.
The lion stands, takes a few steps,
then crashes to the ground,
sinking into the gloomy mud,
a strange comfort, like a dark hug,
but bites like poison in her veins.
The little girl returns to the cage,
few words, but they sting,
"Less than me, lion,
zebras are the new cool."
The girl heads home to her comfy place,
blind to the hurt she threw,
but that night, the lion cries,
alone, hurt, and strong.
She sobs, but hides it well,
In a cage, but dreams of freedom.
Underneath the moon's gentle glow,
the lion's tears paint a silver stream,
whispering unheard stories of pain,
echoing in the stillness of the night.
Her heart, aching symphony,
plays the melody of loneliness,
as she longs for a home that never was,
and friends who only left scars.
The cage rattles with silent sobs,
yet, within, a resilient spirit stirs,
dreaming of a world beyond the bars,
where she roams free, unburdened.
In the quiet of the night, the lion weeps,
not just for herself but for every soul,
imprisoned, unseen, yearning for release,
a silent cry echoing in the vastness.
Someday I will be free.