Pride

A hunter prides his trophy kill,
While mother nature mourns a loss.
He selfishly fulfills his thrill,
At another creature’s cost.

How very tough, you are,
Killing in the name of fun!
A lion never stood a chance
Against a semi-automatic gun.  
     
And then you have the gall
To mount its head upon your wall,
To glorify your ignorance—
I'm horrified and appalled.

You’ll make your lion rugs,
While you rape the lion cubs
Of a home they’ll never have,
And a mother’s lion love.

Celebrating senseless trends
To feed your selfish sense of pride,
You’ll share it with your snooty friends
To help you feel it’s justified.

I try to always practice patience,
But as much as I have tried…
Sometimes I’d like nothing more
Than to feed you to the pride.