A maniac in power, reckless, untamed,
No president like him, no one the same.
An outsider, a showman, with nothing to prove,
Trump’s hundred days, a twisted groove.

Erratic and errant, his temper a storm,
A weather vane spinning, no steady form.
One moment here, the next he’s away,
Like mercury shifting, night into day.

A dictator’s dream, with power to bend,
He signs, he changes, no laws to defend.
A narcissist's vision, a king in his mind,
Pathological urges, no truth left behind.

He strives for a rule, plebiscitarily crowned,
A legitimised tyranny where freedom’s unwound.
The courts overwhelmed, the truth in decline,
His erratic whims, no boundary, no line.

From Moscow’s favour to NATO’s collapse,
He builds his empire on renamed maps.
A coup unspoken, yet loud in its cry,
Undermining the peace, as the nation asks why.

No precedent for this, no history known,
Trump’s grip, a rule that stands alone.
A narcissist’s dream, a self-made king,
Unfettered by limits, just chaos he’ll bring.

One hundred days of broken trust,
Of walls, of lies, of promises bust.
An unparalleled leader, history’s shame,
Trump’s chaos will echo, forever the same.