When My Name Feels Heavy

They call my name
I don’t answer.

Not because
I didn’t hear
but because
I don’t feel
like it belongs to me.

It sounds
too clean.
Too normal.
Too whole.

And I
I feel broken.

Like my name
deserves an echo.

One that fades
before it finds me.

Some days,
I say it
to myself.

Out loud.
In front of mirrors.

It shakes.
I shake.
The glass stays silent.

I wonder
does anyone
truly know me?

Do I know me?

This name
they gave me
was it meant
for who I’ve become?

Or for someone
who never showed up?

I carry it
like a stone.
Like a memory
I didn’t make.

Like a future
I didn’t earn.

Still,
I wear it.

Even if it feels
like a borrowed face.

Even if
I can’t remember
the last time
I answered it
with pride.