Ah, that man is back again.

I knew that he would be.

Back with his misleading smile and lying hair.

I can barely stand to look at him,

Shudder to hear him speak.

His voice is a clatter of deceit.

His words are weightless ciphers,

Empty wrappers cast into the wind

Littering our land

Making us all false and ugly.

He is a black magician.

His words are spells.

They summon up demons.

Everything about him is illusion and sleight of hand.

He comes in disguises.

His velvet glove covers a scaly claw.

Behind the fool’s mask is a slavering maw.

Tear out his artful hair,

Flay the flabby skin from his body,

Take off his dishevelled suit,

And you will find only an absence:

Of anything worthy by which to know him

Or honourable to which to hold fast,

Eventually revealing a terrified child

Desperate for love

Gnawing on its mother’s bones.


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