Echo

Echo

It’s ringing to death O hell,

The bell doesn’t ring a bell.

My written notes are placed on the piano,

A matter of silence makes the tune glow;
I am and I am doesn’t catch the wind,
I haven’t never ever I haven’t ever winged.

It is not the people it is you in guise,

Calling them in vain dressing a scene you like;
My airplane is taking off without any sound,
It is beyond the glass of finite shape and form.

I haven’t taken the onus of playing other’s role,

Creatures all alike are echoing in the whole.