Take off your mask, fascist
You don't need it anymore
We all see what you are.
We guessed the intention
of yer dog-whistling gesture.
giggling behind your
festering red-tie vestiture.

What a joy to be
in the land of the free
With you and your
little boy cronies
playing make-believe
wannabe king.

Play soldier next.
Step up strong.
Wear that uniform.
Dye it black, and tacticool.
Dripped in silver skulls.

Grow a little mustache.
Ride that edge.
Put that X
on a red field,
in a white disk.