Tree Trump 160

The deck of cards dealt us reaps forged worship Proboscis snorts caution to the phlegm leaked Slowly from prestidigitation Is the hand quicker than the all seen eye? A question in a sense sentences speak Causing our grief to fleece themed thanksgiving For such a vast empire of handpicked choice The lasting leaves clinging to broken limbs Standing as rooted yet appears dead Fruitless and barren stripped top to bottom As one questions, "why the song lacks the rhyme?" Logs stacked await the weight of another Therefore the gong slaps the chime as truth speaks To the tune of mockery gasps hatred And fraud sings the chorus groping schooled thought As this world just like conversation...