An Echo of You
We are others, we are the others. There is no way out as we strenuously seek it out. None of them can easily be found. We call it out, now we call the way that may give us sounds ─ An echo of the lingered inhale, exhale hardly can be spewed by the telltale as we are forced to fail, to expel from the world of yours, hell ─ Some say we've been changed, "the ones better or worse?" Perhaps better, otherwise neither. Is there a way out? ─ One strenuously seeks it out ─ You, the others, without making any noise, taken from the loop of our mind whomping in every circle of its swerves ─ beating against the sill ─ you call it out, now you call ─ But none of them can be heard. You, the others, or others become in you?