He pondered his legacy, he scratched his dumb ass.
He was stuck in a quandary, he couldn't get past.
Who the hell am I, he thought, what's up with me?
Am I really for real, do I have substance to see.
Am I a poser, a charlatan, do I inspire respect.
Am I a result of bad parenting, Obama's neglect.
Does my life have meaning, is my lunchbucket full.
Am I stripped of my sanity, bereft of my soul.
Who is Joseph Robinette Biden, why don't I know.
Why do I no longer think it's me running the show.
Has my brain been usurped, is anything on the level.
Is my deal with Barack really a pact with the devil.
Have I sold my conscience, for 15 minutes of fame.
Is my legacy to go down in history with an infamous name.
Why do they come running with drugs when I think like this.
Drugs that spiral me into another ignorant bliss.
Here comes that rush, there goes my next thought.
I can't believe this is the future I've foolishly bought.
D.L. Crockett -- 2/1/24