Upon the stage, their shadows grow,

A father’s wrath, his daughter’s show.

With words like fire, fierce and free,

They shape a nation’s history.

A king of steel, a ruthless tongue,

With fists he ruled, with death he sung.

The daughter watched, the daughter learned,

And soon her voice with fury burned.

Their sermons rang through crowded halls,

Each threat and curse met with applause.

Their faithful cheered, their critics fell,

As silence echoed prison cells.

No sins to own, no shame to bear,

They laughed at cries of deep despair.

The streets ran red, the night stood still,

While power bent to match their will.

Yet history’s hand will write its page,

Beyond the echoes of their rage.

And time will judge what men ignore—

The price of blood, the cost of war.