The abomination

it has two hands , though small,

it has hair, though fake,

it has a tongue, though better silent,

it has thoughts, though only of itself,

it has offspring- sad hybrids,

it lays gifts for loyals,

their noses unaffected by the brown,

it has a network, a web of intertwinning caregivers,

eyes flash with gold or red,

it likes golfing,

claims it’s a sport,

it likes cheering crowds,

or so the boos sound to him,

it wrote a book of ‘art’,

though he can hardly type,

it brought us so much hate ,

yet, even his worst,

was mere negligance,

it is an abomination,

the echo of all the backward shackles,

it will not make anything great,

not even itself,

it will not bring relief,

it is a 4-year constipation,

but a kind “out!” can be our pill.