Further honoring National Poetry Month with a poem composed entirely of Donald Trump's words, in sequence, edited down to their pure essence:
Pussygate
I moved on her, actually.
I moved on her, and I failed.
I did try, no, no, Nancy, no
and I moved on her
I moved on her like a bitch.
But I couldn’t get there.
I better use some Tic Tacs.
I’m automatically attracted.
I just start
Kissing.
Just kiss.
You can do anything.
Grab ’em
by the pussy.
You can do anything.
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