This one's been coming for a long, long time.

I remember when you were a young boy,

Golden-haired and silver-tongued, precious

To any adult who saw you.

Even as you spun the wildest of stories, they believed you,

Believed in your child's innocence. But what a liar you were.

I remember when you drove home from your prep school's dance,

Hurtling down the road until red and blue flashed behind you.

A white-toothed grin, a last name, and a little bit of cash,

And you were free, yet again.

I swear, you could get away with murder if you offered enough.

And I see you now, on every news channel in your tailored suit,

As your lying mouth hemorrhages poisonous words—

Sweet, but with such a cost.

As these words whip the crowds into frenzies,

I hope that you know what you're doing.

And as those frenzies curdle into mobs,

Setting the city alight and littering the streets

With shards of glass as sharp as your conniving mind,

I conclude that you do.

Oh, you know all too well what you've created;

You've been twisting everyone around your little finger since birth,

So a riot in your name is child's play.

Destruction has never mattered to you, not if you get what you want,

And the people that chant your name are merely means to an end.

But I should not be surprised— the world's full of people like you.