I hear stories of how you’ve become king. You boast of how you’ve climbed to the top, but keep silent of those you’ve let down in order to hold onto your pride rock. The problem is I hear your lies loud and clear, like the laugh of hyenas. You once called me brother, but then sunk your claws into my skin, leaving scars on my back that resemble the Scar in your eyes. But no matter how many times you let me fall, this lion will always rise.