Man in the throne

There's a man and he sits
In a leather bound throne
Behind an ancient desk
Made of wood from a ship
He sits in a temple-like house
With a cast iron fence
And a neatly trimmed lawn
And the colour of the house - white
White like the skin beneath his fake tan
White like many of his nation
But his heart is as black as cold, hard coal
And his hair is bleached, like his truth
He imagines he is a king
And he imagines he has a queen
A family and a country who love him
But he's mistake through his own
Messed up dream
He's a man stuck in his own delusion
With narcissism, obsession, tantrums
Staring at women in so many wrong ways
And though the media speaks of it
Nothing is done
"You voted for him," they cry
"He got in, so deal with what you have."
But they shake their heads and regret
That this orange man
With windswept hair
Has power tremendous in his childlike palm