Oh, Maharlika Boldjakera, a dubious star. With a crown of ego, reigning near and far. A spectacle of grandiosity, a dazzling display. Yet substance lacking in your bold array.

In the kingdom of pretense, you wear the crown. A ruler of illusions, making fools of those around. Your words, a tapestry of grandiloquent deceit. A symphony of falsehood, a charlatan’s feat.

Boldjakera, the master of smoke and mirrors. Your realm built on hype, thriving on terrors. A puppeteer of narratives, spinning your web. Entrapping minds in the illusions you ebb.

Oh, Maharlika, in your bold facade. A parody of leadership, a hollow charade. Your subjects, mere pawns in your grand game. Fooled by the shadows, dancing in shame.

So here’s a toast to Boldjakera’s grand masquerade. A satire of leadership, in the charlatan’s parade.

PERA NA, NAGING BATO PA!