A Cold Betrayal In The Oval Office Poem by Mario, Lucien, Rene Odekerken

Trump leaned back, arms crossed,
his smile a blade dulled by arrogance.
Beside him, Vance nodded,
a shadow cast in borrowed light.

Across from them, Zelensky stood,
his voice carrying the weight of fallen cities,
the echoes of sirens,
the pleas of those who still believed in promises.

But promises were not why they had come.
Trump smirked, words empty as
hollowed-out ground,
Vance, eyes narrowed,
measured war in numbers, not in names.

Zelensky spoke of bravery,
of soldiers who bled for freedom,
of a country left to fight alone.
The answered with silence,
with shrugs, with glances that spoke of deals undone.

The room smelled of power, stale and unmoving.
Not a place for heroes,
but for men who see suffering as spectacle,
who shake hands and turn their backs.

And as Zelensky left,
the door heavy behind him,
the betrayal hung thick in the air-
a wound, a warning, a disgrace carved into history.