Simba

His mane was spiked in anger

Around him he sensed danger

All he’d done was kill a deer

But somewhere near was a prowling peer

He’d been in exile for years now

No one quite understood how

His father had been betrayed

By his own brother who was strayed



The death had taken all by shock

The family was turned into a mock

That was when he chose to leave

Never to return, never to grieve

He’d made friends in the wild

Who ensured he never was riled

They made him smile and laugh

And took care of his emotion graph

Pumba and Timon they were known

Both were fun right to the bone

They stood by him no matter what

Love him a lot and never fought

But the time had come for him

To prove to all who were dim

He was born to be a king

To wear the crown and the royal ring

He had to go back home

To sit on the throne

Back to his beloved Nala

Back to where he was christened Simba

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