She must have carried a heavy weight

Something peculiar about her gait

Sophistry as legal tender

The march that reeks of sour agenda

We are woke

We have open eyes

We can see you’re the tyrants

You claim to despise

Your every defense and objection

shows your mastery of projection

You could hold your own parade

but your shit doesn’t sell

You’re the flavor of popsicles

served in Hell

And the anger etched upon your face

is what’s made this country an ugly place

So just go home to your precious safe space