Sounding Out

A voice recorded, warped in the air,

you say my name, but I can't bear

its tinny distortion, a mirror cracked,

echoes of thoughts I thought intact.

I listen, flinch, as my words play back,

like shadows flickering, or a train off track,

cracked speakers shiver, each note fights,

leaving me stripped, in dim office lights.

That sound, not mine, yet, it clings so tight,

whispers of who I am, in a cold bite.