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Day: May 4, 2022

Kim Jung-un

A sinister guy,
A nefarious chi,
 A Napoleon complex he keeps;
The west to rebuke,
He set off a nuke
  To relish attention it reaps.

He’s flexin’ his muscle,
To those who would tussle,
  His ego’s as big as the sky;
“Hey, look at me!
I’m nearly five-three,”
  His appearance a threat to the eye.

The world is his stage
And it’s all in a rage,
  For he discounts all public appeal;
He does what he will,
For he is Jong-il;
  In Pyongyang he’s at the wheel.

He succeeded his dad
As the dictators had
  By Koreans, thus sealing their deal;
He lives in a palace,
Drinks wine from a chalice,
  Though deny he his people a meal.

He becomes number eight,
Joining each other state
  In the club holding nuclear arms;
He’s thumbin’ his nose
And mocking of those
  Who threaten his nation with harms.

It’s been the convention,
This marvelous invention 
  Has delayed the concluding demise
Of the dwellers of earth
And the subsequent dearth
  To be found under mushroom cloud skies.

In the hunger for power,
The earth’s final hour
  Is born in iniquity’s den;
What began with an Adam,
Will end with an atom,
  A question not if but of when.
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