The Talker Poem by Cody Moore

All day you talk and nothing said
Your noise you make is a drum to my head
Ear plugs do nothing to stop
Your noise turned rancid as a dirty mop
I see your mouth moving
Not a soul is listening in this place
Faces grow distant and tired
Was not for you they’d long since retired
The hour draws near for eyes to grow heavy
Sleep waits behind weak levies
Now you stop and deeply you sleep
What is this I hear; OH no it’s a peep.