History tells of brother’s scorn,
clawing their rise with tooth and horn.
One’s to rest upon tomorrows throne,
a golden perch to call their own.
~
Eyed by others to take that place;
the hidden, visceral and puckered face.
With but one to thrive each will strive,
who will choice to stay alive?
~
While kings of yore as knight once shone,
kings that bore by night just moan.
But history bores so I’ll say no more,
mysteries conclude in days for sure.

~*~
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