T-Rump and the Thunder-Quills of Doom

(sonnet)
 
If black wolves ate black hearts exclusively,  
We’d set them free to feed upon this night  
And send black souls to black eternity,  
To paint the streets in blood to their delight.  
 
For evil men conspire to evil acts,  
And leave the least of us to evil fate.  
So, send the wolves and level their attacks,  
To end those souls whose love is only hate.  
 
No evil now, but sheer incompetence,  
That leads us on to ill-considered ends.  
And history will judge their consequence  
With stains that even Satan won’t defend.  
 
There are no wolves to fashion our resolve,  
Just strokes of pens to end their bloody jobs.  
 
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