Trump
R Richard Wlodarski
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With a stroke of his brush
He painted them all non-white
His eyes blinded by white
Couldn't see the blackness
He heard his ears listening
To the sounds of the ghetto
His mouth roaring like a lion
Devouring innocent cubs
His hands ever so small punching air
Empty words missing the intended target
His sniffing stale air fighting for his life
His taste for victory crushing all that lives
His spilling blood from the cradle of life
Making a mockery of all that's human
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