After Trump

What if Trump lost, and Facebook, Twitter, Alphabet, Hollywood and the media won: 

The people are stunned, hanging on a breath
To see the fallen giant hiding in shame. 
Fear, confusion fills the senate, as death
Lingers on the faces of hate untamed. 
Iron on their toga flows down their arms, 
Down to the iron in their fateful hands
Hanging on the final breath of the land's
Greatest leader, hanging frustrated and calm. 

Sullen the face of Brutus the conspirator, 
With shadows emerging from his wrinkles
To ask questions: heroes or vain traitors? 
Wrong or right? In barely a star's twinkle
The future was set, and in this dead calm
With J's blood still fresh on his hair strands
Clinging to what was life, what was grand
Brutus ponders what good was done, or what harm. 

At Pompeii's feet, sprawled is the victor, 
Ironically repenting for his actions past.
And the people, confused and totally unsure
How to continue the game with the dice he cast
Seek a new leader with such venom, yet much charm, 
Fighting for them like he had a magic wand. 
CNN will finally never need to recant. 
He put the future back in the people's hands. 

(c) nyonglema