Ruinous Empathy Rap

After my spiritual awakening, I went through an Om Shanti phase—soft words, soft tone. But ten years in, I practice fierce love. Because sometimes holding your tongue harms more than it helps. This poem is about ruinous empathy—the kind that feels kind, but kills truth

What’s love without feedback?
A Hallmark trap.
A hug so soft
it snaps your back.

Empathy’s dope—
until it lies.
Tells you you’re flying
while you drown in disguise.

Call it kind.
Call it care.
But if it ain’t truth,
don’t put it there.

Karens of the kingdom,
mid-tier guards,
policing speech
with plastic hearts.
“I just want safe space”
turns to silent harm—
truth walked out
with her rebel charm.

We’ve seen this play.
Heard the song.
It gave the mic
to nice gone wrong.

D-E-I became D-I-E,
if merit can’t dance
with diversity.
Labels on stage,
talent backstage—
the fire spread fast
when we cut the brave.

But truth don’t flinch.
And love ain’t mild.
She hands you a sword
and calls you wild.

Not here to coddle—
she clears the haze.
Not here to flatter—
she sets you ablaze.

So speak like it matters.
Shatter the fake.
Build with your voice.
Burn for what’s awake.

And if you love me—
don’t let me sleep.
Feed me the mirror.
Cut me deep.