After the boy who cried wolf was eaten by said wolf
the sheep formed their own form of governance.
They drove out said wolf and formed their own guard
and managed to share their grass sustenance.
A few of the sheep (who didn’t get what they want)
said others were wolves in sheep’s clothing.
When the phrase gave them power their noise grew quite louder
Which increased their targets great loathing.
All the sheep knew it just wasn’t true,
But a few felt the need to speak smarter.
So divisions they grew, not for all but quite a few,
And those who cried wolf played the martyr.
Their thoughts so long abided they finally decided
Their fellow sheep really were in league with wolves.
So letting in their own hound in a wool costume bound,
They defended his odd looking hooves.
Those that’d been accused, to go along refused,
and cried out “Look a wolf in sheep’s clothing!”
But the other sheep had heard from the other side that very word.
They didn’t look up from the grass they were holding.
The wolf wasn’t smart, but he knew enough art
to eat first the enemies of his hosts.
They then tried to remove him when his use had been proven,
But their failure was witnessed by ghosts.
Even if that wolf was driven, their governance was broken,
they’d fooled themselves out of home.
For more wolves filled the gaps in their great guarding lapse,
and survivors now hide as they roam.
This terrible poem is about our current political state. Donald Trump is a wolf threatening our republic, and those that create the lies, propaganda, and cover for him in the government, media, and in homes across our land are destroying the foundations of this country. I believe their should be a level of disagreement and compromise in our politics, but this is not that. There is a wolf in sheep’s clothing. A fox [news] is in the hen house.
I doubt I’ve convinced anyone to believe me… But, if you do, vote blue… or at least refuse to vote red this November.
