Why We Have War (aka Little Lion)

But to protect.

Instead of pride of wealth, lets call it what it is supposed to be,

Love of making those around you happy, by using money,

To make their life easier or better, not to wallow in greed,

But to soak in delight of selfless aid to those who need it,

Generosity.

Pride of reputation, used to be pride of ones actions,

Restraint to do the wrong, and support the right,

Used to be based on when wrong was never accepted,

As 'cool' or 'in', it was 'despicable' and 'shameful'.

What has happened to cause these well-intended,

Meanings of pride, to become so twisted?

That we feel we have to accommodate them,

To be normal?

Normal used to be virtuous, pure, and innocent.

Now is nothing but a filthy meaning for,

Corruption and deception and betrayal.

Whether it is intentional or not,

Forming to normal now,

Is corruption, because power causes greed,

And greed causes nothing but misery,

Because you will always want more.

Is Deception, because lies add up,

And drown you and those around you,

With broken trust and heartbreak.

Is betrayal, because greed causes anger,

And anger causes nothing but hate,

Which should never exist in a heart.

Where has the loyalty gone?

When you relied on the people around you,

To always be there, and not to switch sides.

I suppose loyalty left when everyone started playing,

Only for their own standing, their own survival.

Loyalty is taking a bullet, for a comrade,

Whose back has turned and depended on you.

It is resisting temptation, even if you are under-appreciated,

And standing by the side of your friend,

Even if that is not what they would call you.

It is being faithful, sticking to what you were told,

Even though everything points out it is faulty,

Impossible, that there is no way.

Believing that the person you trust, values your opinion,

And your life, enough to want to protect it.

It is Love, when it all comes down to it,

So illogical in it's being.

To think, putting your life in danger, for someone else,

Makes no sense to our survival, but that is the point,

We are not animals, driven only by instinct,

We have thoughts, feelings, emotions.

So why do we act like them, biting each others throat,

When they have fallen?

Instead of helping them up?

What if the lion ate the mouse? What would've become of the lion?

What if, thinking only of his agitated state and his pride,

Consumed that little mouse, thinking nothing of the mouse's claim?

He would've been killed, made for a rich man's carpet,

For the rich man's pride.

We are all mice, yet we are all being eaten, by the lion,

Which is inevitably bringing our own destruction.

But that isn't how the story goes, is supposed to end.

It is supposed to have meaning, living to live,

And not help anyone around you in any way,

Is an empty opportunity that your life used to be.

Don't eat the mice, they hold your salvation,

Even though the mice, you can't see it can you?

We are the mice, yet the mice, are the lions.

We have the control, the power, to eat each other,

And destroy our lives, or we can spare them,

And make friends, which last longer than a meal.

And all these mice will back you up,

Turning into the lions they are, and your enemies will cower,

And run away in fear, because your Pride is in your friendship,

And in your justice, your pride is in what pride used to be,

And that, little mouse,

Has made you the strongest Lion, that will ever be.