Where None May Dwell

Why must I feel so much,
till every excess holloweth me out.
Why is my heart a cavern so profound,
that none may dwell within it.

Why do I care so freely
for those who deem my depths unreal,
who mock the earnestness I carry,
calling sober thought a childish game.

Thus do I question my own making,
as though my soul were forged amiss;
a contradiction wrapped in skin,
a paradox in mortal guise.

For living, as they name it, feels but hollow
a trudging through a world too thin,
till I yearn for an eternal quiet
where nothing breaks, and no one leaves.