Trump, In Verse

I’d like to get this litigation over in a hurry,
but before the trial begins, there’s this: selection of a jury.
As voir dire got underway, I asked – which made me sound dim-witted –
aren’t peremptory strikes endlessly supposed to be permitted?

Election interference, and a witch hunt – that’s what this is:
persecution of a candidate who cheated on his missus
with a porn star, then made payments in a scheme to keep it quiet
and unknown by the electorate. I’ve chosen to deny it.

Irregardless of what did or didn’t happen, seems that I’m
the first ex-President they’ve ever put on trial for a crime.
So on each and every day I’ll bless the courtroom with my presence
as I’m tried for consequences due to my alleged tumescence.

While the members of this jury are laboriously chosen,
I am circumscribed unfairly in a courtroom that is frozen.
And as I vociferate this prosecution’s never-ending,
I had better learn to pace myself – since three more trials are pending.