(P)residency

You know, you cannot run for President.
The race will take the same amount of time
No matter how you go. If you are bent
On the becoming, you will slink like slime
Oozing towards Iowa. You cannot run:
Once you have entered, everything you do
Is ours, no longer yours. There is no fun;
The relaxations you're accustomed to
We will now judge. So you are not your own;
You cannot run a country otherwise.
Even when you think you are alone
The state will see you with eternal eyes.
The next two years are bliss, with joy mixed in
Compared to what will happen if you win.