I have always had a knack for eavesdropping.
Tho I am not in the least 
Fancied by the distant conversation.
The corresponding voice 
Of the majority's cry.
Place me in a situation,
Shrouding me 
Corrupting my sense. 
The constant laughter
By sounds unbearable 
The foreign words I cannot understand 
Tho do respect. 
The gentle voice enchants me so 
And am saddened by cries of woe
I look upon faces of different races
Precise to their own thoughts. 
My father told me long ago 
The curious eye does not go wanting
And the naked ear is evil. 
Such curious nature
Tho strictly forbade. 
I am bound by sand and sin 
Not to wander aimlessly into that distance. 
My thoughts indeed carry
By the countless tongue.
I hearken close to the strangers voice
To long for something to drown 
Out my own noise. 
In heed of advice only this.
For the unbirthed feeling to belong
And the fragment of admiration 
Lay gently upon my ear. ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​