Poison Chalice  (Brexit)

A cup that none queue up to sip  
And those that do hallucinate  
A gilded flask to eager grasped  
And found it held fake paradise  

Expectations sewn of seed  
A panacea for all needs  
 Nations wings severly clipped  
And factions never quite in step  
 
 A bitter brew, rule and divide  
For a thirst, they though we had  
And forced feed all till we revolt  
Not to be touched with a barge pole  
 
A brew for foolish to consume  
Brings bitter discord a nations ruin  
A tincture bringing harm immense  
Cure all or a death sentence  
 
Argue, try to make a difference  
Just sit quietly on the fence  
A potion  seems none can leave  
A spirit for the self decieved  
 
A dice was cast but came up short  
Persued ideals did nothing but abort  
Leaders fall but none take heed  
And premiers fall upon their swords  
 
They flail around and beat their chest  
Confusion all to contenance  
The rest of the world may sit and gloat  
For our tears and pain no antidote