I Alone Can Fix This Poem.

 

I alone can fix this poem;

right now it doesn't scan.

The verses are uneven

and belong in garbage can.

But give me four years on the job

and you will see the diff;

although I'll have to push a few

vile traitors off a cliff.

I will make it great again,

this sorry piece of tripe;

'twill glitter with acuity

and overflow with hype.

I'll tear out all the leftist tropes;

nor rainbows cute employ --

the prevalence of voter fraud

shall be my whipping boy.

And then you'll see this mighty poem

rear up it's head in pride;

a Nobel Prize it shall obtain

or my name ain't Bromide!