Sounding Like Someone Else

In the silence of the car, it plays,

a low warble, twisting the day.

My voice, a stranger, clumsy and rough,

clashing with thoughts—this isn’t enough.

It feels like a ghost that stirs and derails,

words fumbling from lips, like weathered sails.

I wince as I hear the echoes collide,

wondering who this self is I must now abide.