Day 1279, Trump’s Mental Status Test 

 

Our emperor, who has no clothes,

Pinocchio, with growing nose,

Remembered five words told to him.

Which proves, he says, that he’s not dim.

 

It’s not that simple, Donald Trump,

To prove you brain is not a lump

Of protoplasm, wrinkled, gray,

Decaying faster every day.

 

Your father, with demented mind,

You fear just might have left behind

Genes giving you his malady,

For which there is no remedy.

 

So you said, at your own request,

You took a mental status test,

Which you announced that you had “aced,”

Your braggadocio, misplaced.

 

Whenever you get near a mike,

Your syntax is word-salad-like.

And, furthermore, we recognize

Your tweets and speech are filled with lies.

 

We’re watching you disintegrate.

Five words do not invalidate

The evidence we hear and see

Of your declining fluency.

 

So, emperor who has no clothes,

Pinocchio, with growing nose,

You passed your mental status task,

Though still too dumb to wear a mask.