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?

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