Echos Only Grow

Some call them voices.
Some call them whispers
Some mask themselves in hopes no one else would hear them.
I hear the echos of someone else's thoughts screaming at me to make them my own.

Sometimes I comply. And sometimes I do something much worse.

Now I'm stuck here. Stuck I'm the place where they have given up, the place they put the lost causes. Stuck in the place where the echoes only grow.