You sit there shallow as a one foot pond.

Shadow boxing in the mirror, an intimate bond.

Wait, let me get that chair for you kind sir.

I wouldn’t want your peasants to cause a stir.

For what else is more important than your entitlement?

Just look at you there, that’s money well spent.

Can I fetch you some grapes or alcohol?

Wash your feet, jump off a cliff, or take the fall?

Shall I call you Mr. President?

Or clean your mansion while I sleep in a tent?

You won’t change, you’re too far gone.

I’ve lost hope in you, these stitches are sown!

So keep doing what you do, so I can puke.

Dehydration sets in, your charade is a fluke!

The truth is your throne is the biggest joke.

And your anointing by self is as good as broke.