The Trump

Oh,
He thinks he's something dear!
A hero,
Fighting against the world he fears!
And true,
Some will stand and cheer!
But still,
He doesn't see the jeers!
He fancies himself a deadly spear,
That veers!
At any person he sees as evil,
Anyone, that for good,
We should upheaval!
Yes!
Yes!
He is the weapon,
Americas last resort!
Somehow,
I must have missed that report!

But his thoughts,
They need some rearranging!
So many things that he leaves dangling!
He fights,
Against a world that's changing!
That his power it is strangling!
Because of this,
He sees,
That he must intercede,
He must force his creed!
And so,
He tries his hand at wrangling,
But towards corruption,
He is angling!
Oh the country he is mangling!

For,
When trouble comes,
Like echoing drums!
All he does is run about,
Playing games,
And calling people names!
The lout,
He knows how to cry and pout!
Boy does he know,
How to scream and shout,
Whilst,
Hiding from the fallout!