To the Chadbands

This is a poem to the unpleasant people
(you must know who you are).
While the world as we know it around us topples,
and you watch from afar
from your high judgmental perch, hands clean and breath safe,
around you people die.
But that's the way it's always been -- others are brave
while you sputter out lies.

This is a question to chadbands, and bums, mongers
of fear, villains and fiends,
megalomaniacs who drive others to hunger
and who are just plain mean,
how does smug satisfaction warm your heart at night?
How can closing your eyes to other's pain feel right?

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2020


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