druggie

Finasteride preserves the Donald's hair
that long ago would have been gone on top
although his pate would look more honest, bare
without that rank orangutanish mop
unconscious he's a clown in others' eyes
Trump tells his mirror self he's looking great
his retinue's complicit in those lies
their greatest talent's to dissimulate
beneath his scalp, the side-effects are grim
the impotence is not the worst of it
emotional tsunamis pummel him
and judgement--that was weak--has gone to shit
a perilous dependence on this drug
to insulate his ego from a rug