Poetry about Donald Trump
There's a group of people, living in silence - in the darkenss
Many are aware of their existence
Many are not
Our Cinderella Story Was Coming To An End
I Told Myself, Trying Not To Cry.
A Day I Knew Was Coming,
Looking in a mirror I see myself a year ago from today,
Different Hair, different nail color, different clothes
I can still hear the cheers and tears of happiness
I can still see the crowds in the streets chanting his name
Everybody who has trouble in their lives
try to search for their own answers
A radical Oompa Loompa or a Wealthy little liar…
Ah I can’t decide; I think my brain is on fire!