foreign

Sometimes it feels like I sound foreign to myself,
Especially when I speak out loud.
Maybe because the voice in my head is ever-changing.
Growing, morphing, shedding,
As I wander, journey, and learn.
You can see how it’s a little confusing.

The chords in my throat play at the same frequencies
Unsure of how to morph with me,
They keep singing the same verses,
While I spend months writing new songs.

Sometimes it feels like I’m filling a shell;
Shells of my past selves once known to others.
Just to fit into practiced narratives,
Play out familiar dynamics,
Though it feels oh so stagnant.
Though it plants distance to those around me.
Leaving me lonely.

My body is a little unsure of
How to be the bearer of my soul.
It gets a little awkward sometimes,
Though we remain on nodding terms,
Though we don’t get upset.

We sit as companions amidst mutual confusion
Dancing to our respective chaos in parallel worlds
Hoping one day to come together, come aflame.

This,
This is why
I sound foreign to myself.

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