The Snake is Trump
She Fed the Snake. Never Again.
America Speaks
One morning, aching, worn and torn,
Lady Liberty walked at dawn.
The land was cracked, the skies were gray—
Still, she hoped to find her way.
Along the path, she saw him there:
A slithering shape, with golden hair.
He whimpered low, his eyes were wet—
“I’ve been betrayed. Don’t you forget.”
“They mock me now, but I can save.
I’ll make you strong, I’ll make you brave.
Just take me in—give me a place.
Let me restore your pride and face.”
She paused. She knew the warnings well,
But fear had cast its heavy spell.
She wrapped him in her flag with care,
Believing love could heal despair.
She gave him voice. She gave him light.
She let him climb and claim the heights.
He swore to guard, defend, protect—
Then turned to crush with no regret.
He gutted laws. He courted hate.
He praised the strong and mocked the great.
He grinned as freedoms cracked and fell,
Then whispered like a tolling bell:
“You knew damn well I was a snake,”
He hissed while watching cities break.
“You let me in. You played your part.
Now I will feast upon your heart.”
But snakes can’t rule what won’t submit.
She rose—still bleeding, fierce and lit.
“You bit the hand that pulled you in.
Now choke on lies. Drown in your sin.”
She’s not done.
She’s wide awake.
And this time—
She won’t feed the snake.
