Family Affair

Dancing with guns and gold,
We race toward the sun’s burning helm,
Drunk on the kaleidoscope of hues and light,
Stitching a new robe of succession —
thread by thread, carefully, carefully.

But at what cost?
Not gold, nor silver,
But souls and shivers,
Wails that echo across the fractured realm.

Power intoxicates, a venomous sip,
The affair never ends.
A thirst that twists into apathy,
A trap that births only remorse.

The red grows darker,
A stain that spreads as the struggle deepens.
The end, once distant and vague,
Now ruptures into a ride to hell.

Puppets and puppeteers
Clash in battles for lords and makers.
Ghosts and ghouls shriek,
Their cries, haunting every step,
Every breath, every shadow of the past.

The sands of time slip,
Silhouettes and shadows rise.
The hour arrives, inevitable:
All legends crumble before reality.

The family, once unbreakable,
Shatters under the weight of betrayal.
As the old ones fall,
A new throne emerges,
gleaming and hollow.

Gasping for one more day,
The smallest voices swell,
Louder, louder, until they thunder.
If memory fades,
The realm will bow to a new master.

Another battle calls,
Fought in the name of protection,
For those who hide cruel intentions
Behind laws and robes of fleeting power.

This is the family affair —
A cycle where the small still follow,
Blind to the truth:
A king is only a king
In the realm built on
impermanence and lies.