My Prez, 6520
Rhymes I’ve written you o’er the years...
some filled with cheers, but more with
jeers,
noticed conceit, temper and tongue
made it clear you’ll concede no peers.
You’ll also take some bad advice...
rather than ask, you roll the dice.
You seem to think you are a sage...
though rarely is a choice precise.
{Now you’re finding friends are foes,
where it ends, God only knows.}
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