“When one does not know,
They have no privilege of judging.
When one does not hear,
They have no privilege of saying.”

Basic, is what these rules are.
Yet it seems as though,
To the ears of the judging,
These words become deaf;
Silent as a dead body.

To them,
Judging is a passion; a way of life.
From your cloths, to your skin
They will judge.

As if they were perfect;
Superior beings
Ones which others have not been informed of
Or perhaps, ones who only exist within their minds.

They will criticise you
Humiliate you
Destroy you
Assuming that they are perfect themselves

But what they don’t realize is
You cannot judge a book by its cover
For the truth, behind your tears,
Are hidden within your soul

Hidden enough, so they cannot be seen by the eye
So how then?
Can they judge so proudly?
The answer, we may never know.