The white-blue lion was a one-of-a-kind beast, not because it was the king,
Not because it was prepared and able to survive its world,
Why is it hard?
The white-blue lion was a beautiful jumper, bounding from hill to hill,
With the white of the eagle, the blue of the moose,
Why can’t I think?
He hunted with precision,
Made the pride proud,
Why do I feel like I’m sinking?
But there were always problems,
Always fights and holds,
Why am I sad?
The white-blue lion, content and alive
The white-blue lion, tearing and ripping,
Memories matted in his tattered mane,
All I want to do is cry without reason
Disappearing in the wall of rain.