Missing balls, a poem.

Howdy, I’m the American male.

And I’m missing
parts of me.

My balls went missing when civil rights
protesters marched.

I thought they were right,
but I needed to get home before the
game started.

I work for a company that has a lot
of women employees, but none of them are
upper management.

I just got promoted, but the lady who trained me had more seniority.

I cheered when they stormed the Capitol, waving my red flag, assaulted a police officer.

I surely should find them,
they seemed important….