Dear Cupcake
Dear Cupcake,
Nine whole months you did bake,
Maturity you now forsake,
A college “safe-space” is your must.
Why not simply grow some crust?
Pursue, for sure, that art degree
But why’s tuition up to me?
And wow! Of Clinton, you did gloat,
Now your tantrum: a lost vote.
So go, retreat to Mommy’s walls,
Brood and whimper, but grow some balls—
Grow them quickly, we won’t wait:
We busily make this country great.
With Love,
Deplorable Dave
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