The loneliness I'm keeping
But my sanity is leaking
When my past is speaking
Of the mistakes I'm reaping
I walk an uneasy line
Between shame and pride
But I travel in the wrong direction
And feel I have lost my connection
To myself
To my wealth
Of knowledge I have gained
For now it is stained
Because of my shame
Others see my game
Because I have lied
For the sake of pride
And they start playing
By happily filleting
My dignity
Into infinity
Pieces and desires
Until my mind retires

So I travel from the horrific
To the terrific
Near the Pacific
To be specific
A place
Where people don't wear a scarlet letter
For being as light as a feather
Where there are psychologists
Who understand my ****** logic
Who help me with my vice versus
And the sulfur beneath my surface

Now I'm back in the crowd
I cut through the shroud
And make there here
Through love and tears
I become a spokesman
And speak for myself

"Da Mooch", he was ******, was rude, and was loud.
As his spokesman, you'd think that would make Donald proud,
but he's suddenly dumped before we got to know him.
Yes, his job's been cut short... Just like this poem!