Too bad they don't go by their own mantra

Their fluid judgements restrain you. Tie up your tongue in knots that grow bigger and bigger until your tongue vanishes in a mist of flames. You're wrong, they say. Closing off their iron gates bringing a barrier of intolerance ready to strike at the drop of a bowling ball. They preach tolerance but flood your mind with mocking that continues to beat in their chests like hypocrites swimming in a life which they feel is superior and desired by all. Don't judge, they say yet they stray away from the other calling them names cutting them out of their lives like women cutting locks of hair into a disappearing black hole. Live and let live, they say. Too bad they don't go by their own mantra.