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.
Copyright © Aurelia Wells | Year Posted 2023
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