I want a slow, simple, peaceful life,
one that doesn’t ask me to live on edge,
one that doesn’t grind my bones to dust
just to pay the goddamn rent.
A life where enough is enough,
where healing is a calling
that feeds me too,
not just everyone else.
I wish for mornings that open softly,
light pouring in without alarms,
hands in fur and soft whinnies,
the quiet language of animals–
knowing without words
I don’t want castles.
or keys to forever.
I don’t even care about a home.
Only a place where love is close
and the ones I cherish
are within reach of my voice.
Why is that so hard?
Why does something so small
feel near impossible,
like asking the world to stop spinning
for one gentle hour?
And still, inside this tired chest,
there lives a stubborn spark
that keeps whispering,
there must be more than this,
there must be a slower way to live.
So I hold that whisper
like a candle in the dark
and dream of a life
that doesn’t hurt to wake up to.

