I have been writing and posting limericks exclusively. Seems like an appropriate time to post this sonnet written during D. T.'s first term. Here he's depicted inhaling his entitlements.
An empty leader can feel like a king And every waking minute without pause Seek small brain rewards and shun self-made flaws Expressing great thirst for some bloody bling So what if the weakest lose everything? Steal stuff from the tables of Santa Claus Suck up wealth faster with industry’s straws Make each transaction end with a ka-ching From whom every last drop of gold could spring Take bigger bites with the greediest jaws Justify the cause by chewing up laws Stop all redress, sting the needy and sing: “I can’t get no satisfaction near here So I’ll grab all action others find dear”
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