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

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