XVI. Demon Red

Prince Ivory,

Or Lord of White,

Then beckons me.

So to his right

 

I walk, distraught.

What can I do?

The battle's fought;

Precious time's through.

 

I need to think,

I tell myself,

I cannot blink,

I tell myself.

 

There must be hope;

White thinks I'm his.

He'll be the dope,

So blind, he is.

 

I'll play the lie;

He'll be the fool.

I must not cry;

Though this is cruel!

 

To thus deceive 

So many men...

But it's for him,

Demon Red.