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 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.
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