A rash man... toting a gun
Stomps and ruffles the ground
He tramples everything around
He is the one with a callous ace
Up a sleeve he will definitely pull:
His IQ is that of a loose screw!
His orders are from mad say-sos
Within a temple awash with demons
And his soul - lies with the damned
He has lost his nous and grown so cold
There is nothing left to spark emotion;
He withers, like the skin reptiles shed off
This chump - mows down the dreams of a nation
Not surprising, though, he will eventually quail
Cravenly, in the face of a man with a bigger gun.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Welcome to poemhunter. You may like to read my poem, Love And. Thank you.Tariq Alkaritty. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.