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<div> </div> <div>Echoes are nothing more than</div> <div>a longing for constancy, </div> <div>scared to move forward without a whispering of what came before. </div> <div> </div>Echoes are nothing more than <div> </div><div>a longing for constancy, </div><div> </div><div>scared to move forward</div><div> <div>Tresses squeal soft refusals, </div><div> </div><div>squeal soft refusals,</div> <div>glittering like surgical blades.</div> <div> </div><div> </div>Echoes are nothing more than, </div><div> </div><div>a longing for constancy, <div> </div><div>Fuck the stucco. </div> <div>Something's dying here. </div> <div>Best allocate assets elsewhere.</div> <div> </div>Echoes are nothing more than, </div><div> <div>Can fantasy flash into being? </div> <div>Failed auditions aren't unique, </div> <div>are they?</div> <div> </div><div>There has to be a better formula.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Echoes are nothing. </div> <div> </div> <div> </div> </div>
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What is the sum of 6 and 6:
It's your turn! Move into the poem. Renovate it. Knock down its walls. Put your spin on it. Make it your own.