Without warning, you carry out your mission
to end the career of a struggling statesman,
whose noble aims in some circles garner praise,
but are more likely to stir you into a blind rage.
Never mind the high road walked by the backpack-toting green shifter,
he should’ve remained a university professor
rather than authoring your party out of power.
And in your estimation,
your bespectacled leader remains a pipsqueak,
devoid of the hyena-esque disposition
required to win Canada’s 40th election.
A weak man in all situations,
and prone to parliamentary capitulations,
he caused you to steam,
like the little teapot,
when he lost the ballot.
All steamed up now,
you shan’t hesitate to shout,
flinging perversity at his back,
as you prepare your platform
for a full frontal attack.
But on some future date,
you too might be in for a shock,
finding treachery the fluid
flowing not only in your spine,
but pervading your entire flock.
Today it might be difficult to foresee your hour of desperation,
but infidelity befalls the best of men,
never mind those with little character
and loads of political ambition.