A golden king

A blackened lord

Two armies face the battleground

The sky is blue 

The grass is brown

Armor shines

Swords glint

Horses neigh

The men stay silent

A single arrow is let loose

A single challenge is proposed

The golden king rides to the center

The black lord meets him

A silent exchange takes place

The riders dismount

And swords are drawn

Swords clash

Armor is bent

Grunts happen as armor is pierced

Screams and yells

Cuts and tears

Blood and sweat

The kings of men

Circle each other

A wounded arm

Leads to a impaled stomach

The golden king has won

He let’s loose a battle cry

But to his closest consuls 

The sadness can be heard

For the two kings were brothers

And the oldest had killed the youngest

Such are the squabbles of men

That brother against brother

Nobody wins in the end