Milgram Poem by Karen Esperanza

If the pain was clear,
flesh searing with shock
of voltages adhered perfectly well
with the knowledge of inflicting
Pain from above
Towards a lesser being
In these hierarchies we made up.

Face it.
You like being told what to do.
Higher she says,
and higher you go.

Well why don't you stop?
Are the screams not enough for you?
His skin should melt right off his bones
for you to be pleased.
His eyes should roll back to his brains,
for you to be satisfied.
And then maybe you'll lend a hand
And then maybe you'll forget his name-
Please, don't forget his name.