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