Because I Live, Mr

“How can someone filled with life end up this empty?” Those who danced with a drunken moon, all dried up by the sun, How do those who bore the strongest identity wind up with none, But I am accustomed to the thawing of my authenticity, To the habitual stranger that my soul becomes, While my ebullience, the radiance drains from my lungs, Striving for an acceptance that I can never quite grasp, Fleeting embers of happiness blistering their marks, Dressed in the sins of a society foreign to forgiveness, The damage remains from the bridges I've burnt, Every mark a reminder of lessons I've learnt, How can the fire in one's eyes dim, dwindle and die, Is it better to move on and never ask why? How can a human, filled with vessels, tissues and heart, Feel vacated and hollow, in my sorrow I wallow, Out searching with lanterns for part of me that’s lost, Homesick for the home that this body once was.