He sat in his chair with his lips in a twist,
Watching the riot he swore “don’t exist.”
The dome on the hill was shaking with screams,
Fueled by his rants and his cable-news dreams.
They climbed and they shouted, they broke every door,
While he on his cushion just asked for “some more.”
“Oh look at them go!” he grinned ear to ear,
As chaos and fury grew louder, more near.
A leader who leads with a tantrum and lie,
Will sit as his country is left there to die.
So here is the moral, all shiny and clear:
Democracy falls when the con man steers.