作者 莉宝

There was a little lion, always behind,
Stumbling while others ran wild.
His brothers and sisters left him behind,
Even his mother turned a blind eye.


There’s a lion called Outcast, running alone,
Chasing the herd, but always too slow.
The greatness of life is not in the strong,
But in the broken who still carry on.


Left in the dust, left in the rain,
No one would help, he swallowed the pain.
Faced with the dark, he stood all alone,
Falling, then rising, his will turned to stone.


There’s a lion called Outcast, running alone,
Chasing the herd, but always too slow.
The greatness of life is not in the strong,
But in the broken who still carry on.



Lost in the night, yet he never gave in,
Step after step, through thick and thin.
No matter how far, no matter how weak,
He kept moving on, refused to retreat.


And one day he stood, no longer afraid,
Turning to shield the ones who betrayed.
They looked in his eyes, with newfound belief,
He won them with strength, the strength of the weak.


There’s a lion called Outcast, stronger than all,
Not by his might, but by standing tall.
The greatness of life is not in the strong,
But in the broken who still carry on. 顶一下