Standing here, not a sound is spoken,
Echoes of mixed emotions, now out in the open.
Thoughts racing—most stay silent and hidden,
Lost in the lies each of us given.
The echoes are still here, louder than ever,
Intertwined with wise words, though not the least bit clever.
Though these echoes are out, they are in disguise,
Concealed by truths, and their elaborate lies.
It’s hard to understand meanings behind false words,
Since the truth is never spoken, let alone heard.
What goes around comes back, or so I hear,
Yet I’m still waiting for you, my dear.
The echoes bounce back, haunting me to this very day,
And these echoes, my dear friend, are the things to you I’ll never say.