Pity the President

His flaws have no camouflage;
he wears them on his sleeve
with pride, and pride is first
among them.

A buffoon he lampoons all
but his reflection, speaks
without reflection, every word
an anvil, crushing some
and bringing down others.

Slow down, old man,
I want to tell him.
As full of yourself as you are,
you are empty, and those
riding your coattails,
are in fact riding you.

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