My Whitehouse Edition

What goes down in the glade
of therapy, the edits
and crackdown, she remembers
a starship the last twinkling
they form a line.
This one's for Arthur
he beat me
or something like that.
Establish a rhetoric,
drown the other theories
with other theories.
I wonder what her nurse
thought and wrote down
about her coping aka will to live?
A poem is a thought that can last a century.
Versed is a drug.
The poet who launches is copied
and falls within the crowd
while others shoot arrows
at apples on the heads
in the crowd by guessing.
But this, this will.
This will roll over and play dead
until it is.
All the while it will collect
accolades and money,
there will be no interuption
in that affair.
Insanity is a delicate
decision, one very hard to make.
The award for Cancer goes to....