An Ode to Trump
The sinister lies/
of the people/
Who have never experienced the truth/
They see a pride of lions prowling on their prey,/
I see them feeding their starving cubs./
They see it as an invasion of their territory/
I see shivering and freezing creatures looking/
for a shelter./
Now they must face the truth/
that the home they thought/
they were going to join/
is not./
Forced into a dark cold jungle/
With guards watching them at every step/
Waiting for their next move/
just to attack/
until crimson/
seeps into the ground ./
Me./
I am the cub./
The cub of those/
Who sought after a greener field./
I was born and raised here./
Those lions did nothing but seek for more opportunities/
And yet, they are set aside and looked down upon/
When in reality/
They deserve to be here./
but what does it matter/
what a cub like me thinks?/
All that matters/
is the roar/
of a candidate/
for our future king/
of the jungle./
His roar is/
deafening/
stating that/
I don’t deserve to be a part/
of this jungle,/
That my home/
is not this jungle./
My culture lays here./
I celebrate, eat, and learn/
here in this jungle./
That the lion and lioness/
who protect me/
are exiled/
from the pride,/
just because they were not/
born in this jungle./
I am the cub of these lions/
and I belong here./
Hear me roar/
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