Not Your Sweetie

Gone To The Dogs (a poem)
Gone To The Dogs
(If the Democratic Party were a lovable mutt)

by

trotcop


As his moderate tail,
Moves to the right,
The lovable mutt,
Gives chase with great delight.

The years roll by,
He makes no gain,
Then one day he feels,
A sharp searing pain.

He realizes too late,
All the time he's let pass.
The only thing that he accomplished,
Is he bit his own ass.
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