By: Cedric McClester

Do we really want
Four more years,
Of carnage and tears,
Of uncertainty and fears?
Or should we switch gears
And leave behind the smears
And those rally cheers
That just hurt our ears

He's the Chosen One
Some call him God's son
But what has he done
To prevent a gun
From killing someone
Yet he having fun
And still wants to run
Wish it was a pun

Words I won't mince
'Cuz he makes no sense
So I can't continence
And thus I say hence
I'd give half a pence
Or pay whatever the expense
To discover what's in the rinse
Behind his picket fence

Four more years
Just wouldn't be cool
Under his autocratic rule
I'd have to be your average fool
To vote for someone that vain and cruel
And I refuse to be used as a foot stool
Or swim inside his contaminated pool
When nothing about him makes me drool











CedricMcClester, Copyright (c) 2019.  All rights reserved.