Leave Trump alone, get the hell off his back.
What's with this obsession, you demented quacks.
You've hounded this man, for seven long years.
He's always still standing, when the smoke clears.
Yet here you fools are, coming at him again.
When he clowns you this time, what will you do then.
You'll dream up more BS, more scurrilous claims.
Only succeeding  in sullying, your own damaged names.
Trump isn't guilty, your judgement is clouded.
Every claim that you make is instantly doubted.
You've lost all credibility, your reputations besmirched.
Donald Trump in the catbird's seat, is still perched.
Stop this persecution, you must throw in the towel.
Or hot on your tails, the hounds will soon howl.
Your hateful obsession, has befuddled your minds.
You've blinded yourselves to truths of all kinds.
You've only succeeded in building Trump's base.
All of your subterfuges, will blow up in your face.
Open your eyes, you Trump hating buffoons.
You Elmer Fudd duds, aka, you hackneyed, poltroons.
Go back to your rocks and crawl quickly  back under.
When Trump again is elected, you will feel his thunder.
D.l. Crockett -- 8/14/22