There are days when I wake up
and the blueprint of my life
has redrawn itself overnight,
walls I thought were solid
turning to mist, doors gone missing,
the rooms I once called mine
now echo with questions,
my hands tired from trying to build
and rebuild a future out of shifting ground.

I keep searching for a foundation
that won’t crack beneath my feet,
somewhere I can set down
my dreams and know they’ll stay
but the map keeps folding itself
in new directions, every corner
asking me to become someone new.

It’s exhausting to keep losing
what I’ve barely begun to love,
to watch the colors I painted fade
before I can step back and call it home.
Sometimes all I want is a quiet space
where nothing needs to change,
where I can let time gather
like soft dust on windowsills,
proving that I was here, that something stayed.

Maybe someday, the blueprints
will settle and let me rest,
letting me believe in forever,
even if only for a little while
I hold hope
like a hidden key in my pocket,
and keep building, even as the ground moves,
knowing that what I truly long for
might be the most human thing of all.