#hatespeech
Suicide's an expression until it happens to you
Depression's an emotion till you see what it can do
Sexism's just a joke until it hits you at full force
And homophobia's merely a religious man who read the wrong source
How long do we believe this until we change the way we think
How long do we train the generations to judge before they blink
Why do we laugh as another person falls
Cackling as their world crumbles and filming as they bawl
Why can't we smile then just walk away
No, we complain to our friends the very next day
Tooned into the gossip, well-crafting our lies
As the victim behind you watches with teary eyes
We make days meaningful to show that we care
When a real issue emerges, genuine reactions are rare
Read it on the media, a terrorism attack
The world will just crumble and we can't ever fight back
Because we've trained ourselves to hate, trained to lie
Spotting out monsters with disgust in our eyes
Searching for answers that explain our disgrace
Because we know that we're wrong but won't fix our shape
It's not a belief, it's just discrimination
A plague that has spread throughout our nation
It's a virus just so deadly, a poison old as time
And we drank the bottle naively, corrupting our children's lives
We say transphobia is God's will, no, that ******** is hate
Say the world made you this way, no, it's your decision to make
You read and feel empowered, you say that you'll change
But if you truly believe that then you're just deranged
A girl gets ***** and you call her a *****
Treating ****** assault as nothing more than a chore
As children get beat, and the adults raise their voice
We turn up the TV to block out the noise
We judge based on color, by ethnicity, by age
Like even after hundreds of years we can't seem to change
Spew hate speech online, treat pain as a joke
You'll never know the consequence till your begging and broke
So move on with your problems like it's just another day
Pass on your responsibility like there's no price to pay
But don't you ever think, that this is your fault too?
The minute you spot the truth, what will you do?
Apr 13
Apr 13, 2026 at 10:26 PM UTC
Bigotry has a smell of death
The fuhrer would watch piles on piles of empty flesh
In the summer of 1941
On the grounds of Auschwitz, that place weighed heavier than a ton
Years after the shoah, would this understanding begin to unfold
That nothing stains the soul more indelibly than loathe
What do the blind see?
Your oratory abhorrence they forsee
They see, not your bitter visage
But their ears crush under the muscle of your burning rage
What do the deaf hear?
Even years after the passing of a yesteryear
I suppose, they hear words, like skin caressing skin
Your tirade tearing their tissues like a throw of javelin
Along Its path, since decades, turning into centuries
Before times were tamed
Even after times were maimed
Our tongues have plucked
Incessantly
The plumage of quarantined birds
With stubborn shame
And a sequence of demise ensues
Their voice also dies, so does their silence
Because after all
Bigotry has a smell of death
Mar 22, 2021
Mar 22, 2021 at 10:00 AM UTC
It is as if every word I utter
I stutter as I rethink
to avoid their words
of a terrible idiosyncrasy
hollering profanities
and shame towards me
for the wits presented
to them for only glee
Their disproportionate
lines of reality burns them—
like the termites that feed
on the heart of a tree—
How could I fathom
their blatancy
in having such an
aversion towards me?
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 10:11 PM UTC
Prince of stolen goods come to take over
the nation that spat in his face.
We are losing all our ground an marbles;
we are not going to be okay,
things will not be fine.
Mother is in a women's shelter,
losing weight and begging for money
weekly
from her deadbeat son
who is now broke.
King of hearts take away the sleeping sensation
oozing up from my toes to the center
of epicenter of thoughts that shake my body
like earthquakes of palsy or a stroke
made up of
every pond or puddle you pass up
couldn't hold all the tears I haven't cried.
Sister can you hear me now,
I'm not exactly trying anymore
I'm silent with syllables and
loud with my pauses.
I'm not going to make it,
and I can't turn around.
I'm fragile and delicate and
some would say I'm flat-out weak.
I want you to put flowers on my grave
instead of sleeping somewhere next
to me, six feet under, or sleeping in
wondering what went wrong.
This **** isn't your fault.
Put a sword or some sharp object
to **** away the idea that
I'm going to use to destroy whatever
is left of myself.
**** me, to **** me before I **** me.
Steal everything.
**** anything.
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 12:43 PM UTC