Miserable men
Bow your heads in shame
Let guilt of a thousand years be your name
Foul-smelling offspring
Of a winter's freeze
Satisfy your smugness, down on your knees
Crawl even lower
Then the sons of snakes
Crawl from the chaos you've left in your wake
Slither silently,
Without audible sound
Slither silently as you go to ground
Ebb quickly
As an ocean's tide
Pluck your piercing thorn from this world's side
Gasp as you inhale
Your concluding breath
Then grasp the hand of the Angel of death.
Our intervention sought?
Cocky Misanthrope
We'd help, courtesy of a hangman's rope
Empathy needed
In elected posts
Especially those that Number Ten hosts
Time to say goodbye
Now, Boris Johnson
It's been a blast, but now it's your swan song
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