The Loudest Listener

You’re telling me you’re listening
but your words are loud
because you like the way
they sound, bouncing off the walls.

I’m telling you I’m drowning
and you say you know exactly
what it feels like
to be afraid of heights.

You see I’ve been growing accustomed
to counting
the specks of dust littering the floor
while you try to explain to me
how you know me
better than I think.

But you lap up misconstrued ideologies
for breakfast
and label them as fact.
You spew them from the mountain tops,
like a ballad,
so that everyone can hear,
just how much you know everything
about everything.

You’re telling me you’re listening,
but I’m no longer speaking,
and we’re the only two in the room.
This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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