the inevitable

*twenty-three

I'm so tired of hearing your voice
the way you articulate my name to sound like some kind of slur
an insult
something meant to hurt me
to flinch to the very name
I'm supposed to proudly announce
when I accept the awards you wish I could have achieved
when I shake the hands of your most prestigious role model
when I accept the trembling diploma,
cap on my head, gown draped on my shoulders.
how must I live a life I'm proud to live
when the sound of your voice
and the hurt of my name
ring in my ears like some overplayed song?
it's disgusting
like the blistering heat of a forest fire
or burn in the back of my throat
no matter how high I play the music
there's a nagging, aching feeling
of your words reverberating in my empty head
over and over again
until your words turn into mine
like a vile echo so overwhelming
I could only wish it could suffocate me