The Two Halves of the Third Eye

There once was a man,
Who possessed a third eye,
One hundred men called him boss,
One nation called him king,

False plans, built with a lie,
Each loss a flagrant sting,
Social struts, wearily wail,

Beatin’ social berserkers bide,
Biding time to bestow billable babal,
Babal their own perspective truth,
For the mad king employs a social sleuth,

There once was a man,
Who too possessed a third eye,
No one called him boss,
Only of his mind was he king,

Baring witness to chaos,
Hundred men with varied tasks,
Constant change, masks, zero growth,

Prosperous peace is what he quoth,
No qualms from flawed quartz courts,
No screaming in petty squabbles for bill or buck,
Just peace via peace, with a little bit of luck,

A man with sight is always bright,
Closest friends tight,
With height he releases rage and any petty slight,
A man of no flag, field, forge nor foundry,

Opening eyes to let others see,
Hundred men create individual chaos,
Blinding all to divide and conquer,
Winding, twisting, and perverting truth,

Idyllic statues of justice fade and collapse,
More money to fuel the kings greedy relapse,
As long as their is another man with light,
With a sight for people, for people,

For all of the kings *****, ******, might,
People for people will never cease this fight.