Swords move through the air
The opponents are furious
Sparks fly through the air
The battle is curious
Thrust, thrust, parry, slash
Dodge, dip, thrust, clash
The blades meet stubbornly
Neither fighter budges, yet they’re both in trouble, see
They’re fighting for their lives, for the world is a jungle
And everything is riding on this one little rumble
So they give it all they’ve got, always worried ‘bout the judge
Who’s a child that they’ve raised, and the prize is…love?
The blades are forever swinging
The pain runs deep and the wounds forever bleeding
Of families torn apart due to constantly competing
For affections of the children as the days keep fleeting
And the child feels the pressure, always thinking about fleeing
Fearing one day a parent may be defeated, beaten
Constantly feeling like a trophy, having difficulty coping
With the fact that people are fighting when once they were in love
Star-crossed, like Romeo and Juliet, sent from above
But, like all good tales, there must be blood….
Sweat and tears, and so the child’s in the middle, drowning in fears
Back and forth, they witness a battle for many years
When will it end? When the child turns 18? Will that bring elation?
Or false dreams of emancipation?

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *