President – TB

21 Apr

His house was surrounded by a giant, brick wall,
So high, it was, that even the plague couldn’t get over it.
He wasn’t a terrible man, he only meant to be bad.
He had a residue of good conscience in his eyes.
He knew what it meant to have nothing.
Hell bent, he was, on taking everything he could,
Like a hungry stray dog at a medieval banquet
Determined to fill every hole with what he could (what an arse!).
He insisted on keeping to the old traditions.
He wished me a happy cosmonauts’ day
But we’re so far from space right now.
At least when we had space,
We could dream about freedom
And we knew that
A handful of us would make it there.


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