Now courtrooms call, indictments rise,
The walls once gold now host goodbyes.
Yet still he storms, and still he schemes,
A salesman lost in broken dreams.

(End)
#Poetry #PoliticalVerse #TheGildedMirror

He pardoned friends with crimes so grave,
But scorned the poor who begged to save.
Truth and law were toys to bend,
The grift would never truly end.

With foreign foes, he shared too much,
In secret rooms, with reckless touch.
NATO strained and allies sighed,
As norms and treaties bled and died.

The January sixth — a stain, a siege,
He watched the breach with no fatigue.
“Patriots,” he called the swarm,
While DC bore the traitors’ storm.

He begged for votes, then called them fake,
When he could not the White House take.
“Stop the count,” he cried in fear,
While loyal mobs drew closer near.

From Trump U’s fraudulent charade,
To charity funds he misused, played.
Tax returns still cloaked in night,
“Smart,” he grinned, avoiding right.

He mocked the weak, the sick, the scarred,
Then laughed it off, his heart unmarred.
He paid off silence, hush with check,
Then claimed the law bent at his neck.

The birther lie — a racist blade,
He swung with pride, the truth betrayed.
He stoked the fire with thin disguise,
And built a brand on smears and lies.

He stiffed the workers, skipped the pay,
Left debts behind and walked away.
“Just business,” said the bankrupt king,
While others bore the suffering.

In towers tall with letters gold,
He spun a tale the press retold,
A mogul made, or so he claimed,
But shadows stalked the name he framed.