“Brave Behind a Screen”
Oh look—our fearless thinker, thumbs ablaze with might,
Found someone’s death and thought, “
Perfect—content tonight.”
A cheap little joke, a smug little grin,
Because empathy’s hard, but attention comes in.
Renee Nicole Good—thirty-seven, a name, not a prop,
A U.S. citizen—yet you still had to mock.
Shot in the chaos when ICE moved in close,
And you made it a punchline to farm for a post.
You call it “just humor,” that tired old shield,
While a family’s left standing in shock-stunned fields.
And when people say, “That’s cruel,” you act so confused
Like decency’s tyranny and you’re being “canceled,” not judged.
Because to you it’s a show, a reality-bit game
Not a life ended violently, not grief with a name.
Policies, raids, that hardline machine:
You don’t see the bodies—just the “discourse” and “scene.”
So clap for yourself, king of the hollow remark,
You’ve mastered the art of being loud in the dark.
But here’s what your joke can’t manage to do:
Make you look clever—only smaller, in full view.
RIP