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  • Writer's picturePray Jani

Succession Sport






The eras don’t matter.

The Powers can’t change

The course it is destined for.

Even He could not create

the Earth before its time.

But Humans, just won’t give up.

Elites and commons differed

In luxours and deeds.

Just the commons were more humane,

For the elites were a part of It.

The demonic and animalistic,

The Succession Sport.

Royals as they call themselves,

Can redefine us Beings.

As mere bodies who want,

A better chair than the rest.

For reason unknown,

To us and to them.

What soul do I bare

To blood my Father?

What King do I possess,

To self righteous sword of mine?

Wonders no elite at the stroke

Of the hour and the sword.

What chords did the Old Men play

When this monarchy was defined?

Or what did the Lords pray,

In creation of these elite me?

Who do they belong to?

Why must they rule?

Which deuce did inaugurate

This epiphany of inheritance?

The game that needs no more.

For Kings so Demonic to-

Blood their own “God”

Only to be a part of this Succession Sport..

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