Our lives are like echoes repeating themselves over and over.

Day by day we follow similar routines,

Wa 11tch e same paths,

Do the same things,

Reverberating the actions of the day before,

And the days before that.

Caught in a merry-go-round,

Spinning round and round,

And with each turn,

You simply pass where you’ve already been.

Everyday I hear my echo.

Wish I could scream aloud

And my voice never return,

Or walk a few paces forward

And never turn back.

But, alas!

Being the creature of habit I am,

I’ll just hear the same echoes,

Over and over again.