My moon,
when was the last time you felt at home?
When was the last time you didn’t feel alone?
My mind is unreachable,
and my heart never fits.
My soul is detachable,
so happiness is retractable.
The wheel always spins,
but regrets and sins
keep it bottom-heavy.
I can’t keep it steady.
I was ten,
it was then
with them;
those who can’t speak,
belittle and repeat
their disdain and disgust,
their hatred and distrust
for my flawed existence.
But home is a faded memory,
a lovesick dream.
I only remember it in stories
through music, it seems.
Foundation that’s weak
is bound to fracture.
The love that I seek
is impossible to capture.
So I’ll look at the moon
and dream of never.
It can never get worse,
and it’ll never be better.
