In a grotesque display of ego and irreverence, Donald Trump crowned himself a mock pope 
on his own media platform, Truth Social—just days after solemnly attending a funeral in Rome. 
This biting sonnet lays bare the vulgarity of spectacle overpowering sanctity, turning mourning 
into meme and the Eternal City into a stage for narcissism.

When fools parade in robes they’ve never earned,
And mock the sacred throne with borrowed pride,
The solemn lights of Rome feel coldly spurned,
As grief and grandeur stand defaced, defied.

He posed—a jesting Pope in meme’s disguise,
While incense from true mourning yet arose;
The Sistine silence echoed heaven’s cries,
But Trump chose vaudeville where reverence goes.

What gall to mimic mitres just days past
A funeral’s dirge, beneath St. Peter’s dome—
Where saints were mourned, and solemn memories cast,
He craved the crown that faith keeps far from home.

Such blasphemy, draped in a crimson grin,
Turns Rome’s lament to satire soaked in sin.