Echolalia

Men, like ants, Run past The toppling bricks And the face of wrath Futile is the work of men Metal, stone, and words will all bend On thy knees now We fall with what we build On thy knees now We fall with what we build Accumulate Around the base And count each blessing Though it seems too late Fell upon our heads Our supposed strength Echolalia in the baby’s breath Babbling into the belly and fed

Submitted by Iron_Wraith — Jun 06, 2026