The Wild Card

With lack of manners or respect

His mother thought him cute and sweet

“He doesn’t mean to be so mean”

She saw no wrong in his conceit

And as he grew in self assertion

Convinced he was the perfect choice

Became the louder mouth of those like him

Infatuated with his voice

With little time for playing any rules

Grabbed lion shares without remorse

Not doubting personal éminence grise
This double-dealing tour de force 

Centered by his sense of flawlessness

He wildly slid the downward drop

To drown in gloom of history’s doom

At Nemesis Railway Station stop