*2 Face(d) as F*ck

One who had
Visions of grandeur
Who sought for himself the Leadership
Who was buoyed
By one
Who wrote BS
That was ingested
By the Daily Mail readership
But alas
It was to be sour grapes
As a harvest
From the withered old vine
For his treachery
He paid the price
Falling short of the finishing line
Allowing the unheard of
Wondering woman
On his misfortune
To dine