Donald You’re Fired


He has to hear the word he hates,
The word the world iterates.
He’s come to the end of his tenure,
Goodbye to him and his awful hair.
There are some that will morn,
Other’s think he’s a moron.
No matter where you are,
It’s time to heal this scar.
Let the election result stand,
And do not listen to that man.
He’s a loser, old and tired,
Now in one breath,
“Donald, You’re Fired!”

©The Pesky Poet

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