I hear my life evaporate, it sizzles away like bacon
A sound so distinct, so unnerving
Am I the only one who hears it?
I check my watch to see how much time I have left
All I see is metal wrapped around a ghost
Is that me?
It's too early to be too late right? Right?
My echo is my response, my sanity, my cure
It drives my train of thought, it's my forensic evidence
It never dies it just gets quieter, quieter, quieter
Because not everyone can be heard all the time
Or all at once, or when they're dead, or when they're alive
But everyone can be heard
Unknowingly we're talking to each other
To people we love and people we hate
To people who have died and people who are yet to be born
And even when our echoes have been reduced
To a single undetectable atomic vibration
We're still here
Laughing, crying, arguing, gossiping
Screaming at the top of our lungs
Because we can't reconcile our insignificance
And we wonder if we're too late to learn, or care, or love enough
And our desperate cries pervade our world, transcend our lives
And echo

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