The crown that slips becomes a noose,
Draws the social-network recluse.
Her culture cancels, faux rage enacting,
The hashtag hero, bright lives redacting.
This impostor smug behind her tweets
Curates away her own defeats
Break no bones, her words still smother
How recklessly she mistreats the Other
But Fate, by nature, that fickle beast,
May catch her out when she expects it least.
Word of warning, wash your linen
Never know when you’ll be caught out in them.
Erik Kaisson 2020