Trumpet mouthed, gawping beasts
produce sound incessantly,
shouting, shouting, louder than the rest.
A resonant note rings, a hum, a buzz.
They create the thoughts and fads
and fashions of willing ears,
turned like radars to them.
And those who claim they refuse to listen
still get carried on the waves of fitting in.
Meanwhile, polite cries call
from the back of an empty room.
Meekly asking your attention.
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