If offending feelings were criminal,
democracy would have collapsed
the day ink first learned disagreement.
Imagine the audacity of a voice insisting
someone must not speak
because their existence scratches your comfort
the wrong way.
Ignorantly oblivious
to the hundreds of passing strangers
who would happily grant you
that same silence in return.
That is the fascinating thing
about fragile people pretending to be liberals;
they mistake tolerance
for a throne built specifically for themselves.
And the moment the world refuses to kneel
at the altar of their discomfort,
they begin confusing censorship
for civilisation.
Oh, the fucking tragedy.
“I was offended,” they cry,
as though feelings were handcuffs
and outrage a constitutional clause.
But democracies are not nurseries
built to childproof reality.
You heard something ugly?
Walk away.
Leave.
Never return.
That is freedom too.
But the moment you use your feelings
as an alibi for punishment,
the moment discomfort begins masquerading as law,
your liberal jaws
bare their gnawing canines of censorship.
Because ideal democracies,
contrary to popular fantasy,
are not places where nobody is offended.
They are places where offense survives
without permission
to become persecution.
And the idea
of you finding my truths offensive
offends me too.
Now what?
Do we build prisons
large enough
for every discomfort
that has ever mistaken itself for virtue?
Because if ideal democracies
ever truly existed,
people addicted to policing thought
would become
their very first prisoners.
Does that offend your feelings?
Well then,
democracy is right there by the door.
No comments:
Post a Comment