Day one

Under grey January skies
An orange hued voice rambles
On and on about frivolities,
Spewing its languid hatred
And swaying the masses
Like trees bent under powerful wind
With false promises
Of a better future
Composed of a whimsical greatness
Of which no one can hold
When the truth really looks
Outward with greedy eyes,
Counting its profit, fame, and power.

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