Mask Holes

 

Mask Holes

Consumed by fear, from what was told,

that death is coming with the cold,

they give up freedom of the fold,

unleashing tyranny uncontrolled.

Common sense has lost its place,

as diapers cover half our face,

and here’s an extra just in case,

to wash our minds without a trace.

What’s the game and what’s the goal,

and WHO decides who’s in control,

that masks are better for your soul,

even though they’re full of holes.

And when you wear them for awhile,

to hide your frown or hide your smile,

the lungs congest to cough its bile,

but don’t complain it’s just a trial.

Don’t sneeze or cough in your disguise,

you’ll only show and publicize,

and scare to death by your surprize,

the mask-holes you have traumatized.

Masks don’t protect us from the flu,

the holes are wider, it goes through,

but someone makes a buck or two,

to build and grow their revenue.

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The Activist Poet 

About this Poem: Are Face Masks Effective? Here’s the evidence they are not.