The Babbling Monster Rears its Ugly Head in my Poetry

I wish poetry could save the world
I wish it could make the lame dance
and the blind see
I wish it could be the next cryptocurrency

It would be great if it could give me thrills
and also pay my bills

I wish people valued it as much as antivirus software
maybe it's the ultimate antivirus software if the virus is a fat balding man
who shuts down the government with no real plan

Sorry, seems like the great white dope
injects himself into just about everything I wrote
this is really going way beyond the scope
I was really hoping for something more like hope

But poetry can't save the world
it can only make us feel
that maybe once
the world was real

but now were stuck
with a conman
who just wants to make a deal

He's willing to risk it all
just so he can have his wall

How can one man be filled
with so much gall?