the lion circling her pray
is she afraid to fail
does she think of her cubs
what higher function brings us fear
what purpose served by ideas overwhelming
is there some higher order
some twisted soul who watches down
amused by trivial life turmoils
the clock that's ticking is not my own
the gentle snores and incessant clicks
remind me that i can't escape
a lie of course but today i am not lion.
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