Here we are, making excuses again

Is the volume high enough on this?
Can you hear me?

Or am I just echoes in the wind,
Again,
Lost to ears who do not care to listen.

In this chamber of echoes,
The air is damp,
Soft.
Outside, where the wind howls,
Here, it is silent.

Resting,
Finding peace.

I'm really only upset,
That I didn't finish cleaning the mess I made.