The President Has Cancer

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Editorial and Opinion  |  House: Booksie Classic
A poem about how hard some Americans must be making it on our current president to run the good ole U.S. of A.

Submitted: December 08, 2006

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Submitted: December 08, 2006



Written for all those world wide who do not support our current president. Hate is a true cancer to the soul.

Fighting them off as best he can
But could it be a losing battle?
When ever friends turn out to be foes?
How can there be any hope for a man who should be the
most respected of them all in this world?
His horrid secret revealed here and now
The president has cancer and that cancer is.....

Political nonbeliever
Doubter and trash talker
How can you even bear to look at yourself in the mirror?
Knowing that ever so slowly
You are destorying
Murdering a good man
A man who has done nothing but battle in a endless war
for your rights
How can you betray him so?
I don't know and I don't want to
All I do know for sure is this
The president has cancer
A cancer that must be removed at once if he is to survive
A cancer that has a name....

Now you know
Now maybe you can begin to understand
Just a little better about yourself and the things that you
do to him
With or without intention
Eating away at his soul
Both day and night
I know that you can't be
Proud of yourself
I think you know that
You really ought to be ashamed of yourself
Casting a long black shadow over him and his little white
Just who do you think that you are?
Trying to rub his nose in your mistakes
Blaming all your faults on him
That's no way for a grown man or woman to behave
That' s no way to treat the one
The only one who's ever really tried to help you on up
out the gutter that you've been living in
I tell you
You better listen to me and you better do it now before it's
too late
Listen, learn, and understand
The awful shape that he's in
Change your ways and change 'em now
Learn to respect those opinions of his
Not so very different from your own
Remember the reason this poem was written and
The president has cancer and that poisonous growth is
none other then.....

Working his fingers down to the bone
Closer and closer to a nervous break-down
Angry and spiting nails but he can't show it
Hurting and crying for some justice but he can't reveal
His every move watched and monitored
He longs to be a hero
To save this land from the terror of many a foreign
danger gone mad
Only to be told time and again that his efforts are all for naught and that to his people he's nothing but a
Tears him apart
Spending many a restless night
Again and again asking himself why
Why can't they see that all he wants to do is help?
How sad
Such a nightmare to be living in
Burning alive as if he were lost
Inside the fires of hell itself
The president has cancer and that cancer is.....
All your fault because that cancer is......



© 2006 RAMONA THOMPSON (All rights reserved)



© Copyright 2019 ramonathompson. All rights reserved.

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