Upon a throne of faux gold spray,
He rules the kingdom of “Me First Day.”
With subjects glued to cable* cheer,
And mirrors jeering, NOT the greatest here.

He longs for crowns and velvet halls,
For royal waves from gilded walls.
Yet all his touch turns not to gold,
But rust and debts he leaves untold.

Already Trumpvicted, the Convicted-in-Chief,
His crown now reduced to a paper-thin leaf.
The pomp is gone, the charade laid bare,
A fallen king in his golden lair.

To make America good again,
We’ll end his reign and all his men.
The ghosts he once called will soon lose their claim,
And rot forever in history’s shame.

Annotation: *cable = cable TV (in the USA)