|for all I know, this image may be dangerously out of context...|
A silly poem, swifty scribbled and growled through a rictus grin...
I'm waiting to be offended,
And I really won't like it one bit.
Whatever you'll do will be awful,
And I'm simply not standing for it.
Maybe you'll use a bad swear word,
Perhaps inappropriate slang,
Or do a revolting hand gesture,
Or refer to someone as a "wang"
Perhaps it's because of the context,
Or your outdated views on x/y,
Your belief in divine intervention,
I must have my right to reply.
I cannot come round to your viewpoint,
I'd rather we were all the same.
I won't be agreeing to differ,
And I think we all know who's to blame.
Could be I won't like how you say things,
It won't be so much what you've said,
It's more how you looked when you said it,
I'll assume you'd prefer I was dead.
I don't want to hear things that upset me,
Can't we just have this sort of thing banned?
Lock up the stupid and tactless,
Then at least we'll all know where we stand.
All I know is, it won't wash at all, no.
I knew to expect this from you.
You're precisely just that type of person,
Who offends with whatever you do.
We've all done it. Especially you. No, not you - you. Precisely.