Noses poke and tongues wag
They have not the sense
Where to see that fence
They sniff, they graze across
Over the patch that they do not own
They overlook the “restricted entry” ,
where the “respected privacy” is grown
In the “other’s” space, they raise to a pedestal
To preach sermons, like experts they drawl to the infinitesimal
They are the least conscious of their encroachments
Their last word, to rule over, for every predicament?
If only they realize, how their intrusion
Gets near the line-of-control
The storm brewing,
the animosity that surges like a troll
How their "buttonholed listener"
Is ever on the hunt of a plastic surgeon
To snip those protrusions or subject them to a bludgeon?
But would they fall back in their rightful positions?
Despite these treatments, they would remain the askew
To raise these questions in a slew
Shouldn’t have I better known
That, trespassers are bound by habit
To allow them to infiltrate into my thoughts
Would be but my own chosen ambit?
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