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This is Espeon's Poetrydex entree.

The Deaf ListenerEdit

Too large is my mind,
My skull cannot contain,
So housing it must find,
In many another's brain.

As it feels content,
It feels curious too,
And though I try to repent-
I end up searching you.

Your thoughts rush to me,
In a tangle of jumbles,
Some great shouts to be free!
Others contented mumbles.

I hear everything, but yet-
I hear too much.
Too much to find truth, you bet!
I describe it as such.

Only your most forefront thoughts,
The ones that now haunt your mind,
Only most recent moral battles fought,
Only the first level can I find.

The rest is hidden in the sheer volume,
Of what your mind is thinking,
Unless of course your in a battle room,
Whereas your thoughts are rarely blinking.

It is fascinating to see your mind,
Click and whirr and set,
It so, so strange I find,
How instantly you forget.

Your thoughts drop to a whisper,
That I can barely hear,
Pure instinct, thoughts but a whimper,
The state fills me with fear.

For though your thoughts are silent,
My mind finds no solace within here,
Your thoughts turn to those of violence,
Battle plans bringing up the rear.

My mind enlarges, out and out,
Ever expanding, never relaxing,
I hear too much to hear but a mental shout,
And it is severely taxing.

So laugh, young fool, young disgrace,
And I will make it your last laughing breath-
I have the power to crush you in death's embrace-
Even though this listener happens to be deaf.

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