My Space

You get in my face,

And all up in my space,

To say you cannot breathe.

But 6 feet underneath,

Are those who succumbed 

To something you’ve misjudged.

I just want to do my job,

But I have you snobs

Telling me not to wear a mask,

But, honestly it’s such a simple task!

“But my freedoms!”

God, I’m tired of these pleaders,

Because people have died

Because you refuse to supply

6 feet of distance,

So now their existence,

Is nothing but a memory.

Maybe they’ll show up in a documentary

Showing the new generations

And all civilizations,

That we failed,

And how 2020 derailed

The entire world.

But you just sat and observed.

So I request your cooperation,

To social distance,

But you continue your resistance.

I don’t want to get infected

With something you rejected.

I work at a Credit Union,

I’m only human,

I can get sick,

But that’s something you're willing to risk,

Just so you don’t have to wear

Something to keep your air

Out of my space.