General Discussion

There once was a plea from the West,
To Kyiv, by drone-wars well-versed,
Zelenskyy thought, “Huh—
Who’s bluffing now, bruh?”
But smiled like a diplomat first.

He played every card for his land,
While louder men blustered and planned,
Till Trump, with a sweep,
Passed the matador’s cape—
“Your turn for the estocada at hand.”

A quiet, strategic display:
The bull still is Russia in play,
And while crowds roar and bark,
The blade finds its mark—
How strangely poetic, you’d say.

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