The spines of cowards, the hearts of a stone,
Trump and Vance sat cold on their thrones.
Zelensky stood, war-worn but tall,
Yet they slouched, sneered, contributing fuck all
A leader pleads, his voice like steel,
Asking for aid to build strength. An appeal.
But there sat the twats all smug but dim,
Rolling their eyes like war’s a whim.
Trump, the king of coward’s play,
Mocked the man who holds the fray.
While Vance, his lapdog, his bitch, small and shrill,
Muttered excuses, void of will.
They smirked and scoffed, and played their game,
While bombs still fall in Ukraine’s name.
Fingers were pointed and voices raised
The whole world watching were left dazed
In a room of grown-ups, the children won through 
And left a nation royally screwed
Leaders lead, but cowards hide
But only one side retained their pride.