It must be hard as you contemplate
Your political and uour personal fate
To realize you are a duck increasingly lame
And the power is diminishing of your name.
That you have less and less control
Of those whose loyalty to you has taken a toll.
It must be hard.
It must be hard to see
That your supporters have begun to flee;
When those counted as your tools
Begin to realize they have been your fools;
When those to whom your voice filled their ear
Let it be known they no longer hear
Or fear
You.
It must be hard.
It must be hard
To see those you called your friends
Have used you for their own ends;
Your friends Xi and Putin and Un
Think you’ve been just a little bit of fun.
When bluster and bullying and lying fall flat—
It must be hard to admit that
No one believes in the significance
Of You.
It must be hard.
It must be hard
To know the people you throw
Out of the country know
Better than most
The narrowness beyond your oft-heard boast
That you’re really just helping Americans most;
They know, because they watch and they wait
For your next explosion of vengeance and hate
Of people you don’t know or about whom you don’t care.
But you know no matter what,
They’ll always be there.
Despite you.
It must be hard
To see those you cooose
lose.
To know you have less power
That you no longer tower
Over those loyalist
who have flown
And no longer are your own.
It must be hard for you to seek
The power you once had,
But know that now you now are weak.
It must be terribly hard.
It must be hard
While playing pasture pool in your big back yard
That few people care about the score
That you might approve on your personal card
A few strokes less, maybe one more
It’s not golf that will determine your most final score.
Others are scoring you, you see
As you stumble from hole to tee
While the world around you falls to ruin and rack
You only care about the nine holes coming back.
Soon you will be gone, that is a fact
And nobody will care anymore for your act.
It must be hard.
It’s got to be hard to know how few will mourn
When you go. Few hearts will be torn
While so many will be eternally glad
And not at all sad
That you are gone.
And the places you named
To prove you were great
Will soon be returned
To their original state
It must be hard to know
What will happen when you go—
For go you will,
Your overnight rage
Will at last be gone from the stage
And we will never forget
The damage you did
But at last we will be rid
Of you.
And that won’t be hard.
(copyright 2026 by Bob Priddy)