A Royal Rant

A proud strut, a feathery slew,

He cast a weary gaze through the morning haze,

Plumage damp with clinging dew,

Surveying the busy roads with a calm unfazed.

He stood atop the rocky summit,

Almost smirking to himself,

His neck gleaming as he stretched it,

Snorting at humans’ noisy pelf.

His crown was naturally regal,

Yet how his life turned into a royal chagrin,

Proud and beautiful in this unforgiving hell,

Concrete walls closing in on his living.

He held his head in perfect unconcern,

Even as his prey vanished, and kingdom encroached,

Sighing as humans will never learn,

In their foolish pursuit hunted, stunted, and poached.

Yet he knew he was held in respect,

A paradoxical term that only evoked dread,

He gets killed for beauty, for feathers intact,

They kill the living and lovingly display the dead.