they scurried out of his hands
he raised his hands to motion them
as an uprising
he still speaks out of orifices
besides his mouth
and his reactive comments
are of gaseous sentiment
than intellectual notion
yet they scurried out of his hands
they were happy to
they were just the same
as any of his comments or actions
they were the mere manifestation
of all his toxic rhetoric
they gnawed on the ropes
binding hope with justice
their tiny claws left scars
on the marble columns
of all the places that
should be thought of as sacred
and their relentless waves
left the streets littered
with his legacy of deceit
for as plagues go
he knows how to spread them
all too well
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