The sky is chaotic
white from cannons in the west
while rebel greys and different blues battle in the east
the clouds surpress the sky
not even the sun can peak through
It is all separated like politcs
not from day light to night time
but by a force that can be
blown away by a simple breeze
but for now it is steadfast
no one is giving up ground
we need the light to guide us
then night falls
cannon balls strike a flash
thunder sounds of boots marching in
both sides have the numbers
faces keep a distance but still stare
waiting for the first shot
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