Two men fight for power
Two men seek the throne
One is made of brushstrokes
The other well-cut stone
The stone man’s eyes are piercing
They see with logic gaze
With sapphire pools of crystal
He see’s clean through the haze
A map he clutches close to hand
To chart his ambitious path
With his scale he weighs the choice
By rubric of his math
What decisions he will make
If he takes the seat
What terrors might the nation know
If he now tastes defeat
The painted man is blazing
His skin is rimmed with glow
His ruby eyes emboldened
What passion do they know!
His friends he keeps near and dear
They aid him in his quest
By their consol he will strive
To bring this war to rest
His fire could stoke the nation
If he were cast its king
And without his kindful solace
What could the future bring?
But I, the nation, watch the fight
The clash of mighty arms
Which of these the better man?
Which would bring me harm?
Sad, It's not my place on earth
To make any form of choice
In this struggle for my kingship
I have not ghost of voice
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