A poem about Trump:

I saw your wearied masses,
and hunched, limping poor.
I heard your shops and homes all close,
and thought on what I saw.

I saw your deafened ears,
and blinded, bright eyes.
And so, I saw an entrance,
a pathway made of lies.

I touched the blind and gave them sight,
but to only see what I allowed.
I coaxed the deaf to hear only me,
and marched on, enshrined.

I waved a hand and flags flew.
I spoke and there you were.
The sick, the poor and blinded herds.
Showed what was salivation and said:
‘See there a cur’.

I lifted your weak arms,
too weak to crown me alone.
And I made a castle of your love,
and are your hopes my throne.

I am your salvation!
Astride a Guilded, black horse.
I am all your saviour!
I am the bringer of wars.

I shall turn you on your brother,
and turn the rich man on the poor.
I will don you with golden shackle chains,
and a pledge of allegiance will be sworn.

Go kill those in need,
and drown their fleeing babes.
For they are less than human,
and especially the children, vicious snakes.

I’ll confound my Empire’s edges,
and fog up all the laws.
I’ll ne’er show my other, pale steed,
but poison my gifted gold, astride my black horse.

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