There is nothing new under this sun.
Nothing but cracks in the sidewalk's bend.
No kind, uplifting words from a close friend
that can stop life's promised bitter end.

There's an impassable gap in
your stairway to heaven's gates
you designed yourself,
so the buck stops in your own hands.

Shiny happy people holding chainsaws, handguns,
and sticks on fire.
All the better to flame up your funeral pyre.
All the jeers
mixed with all of the blood
and sweat
and tears
placed perfectly silent into your coffin and covered with dirt.

Yet one question never mattered in the end did it?
Who's the ******* president now?
Who cares?