And so passes another day
the routine ingrained
like the predictability of ocean’s tides,
or repeated rising of resplendent sun.
I trudge wearily on and on.

Have I forgotten how to strive?
Lost the will to survive?
In this existence tarry onward,
as an instinctive insect plying
I move and act without trying.

Emotions now escape me
repetition enslaves me;
mindlessness of doing what I must.
I’m now a cog in the machine
a statistic in this scheme.

With or without me in it,
the world continues spinning
this mechanism does its thing.
Expendable; I do not stop.
Redundant: living, this is not.

And so passed another day
the earth’s rotation stays unswayed
unstoppable;
the endless days that confine,
to break this cycle, must I die?

Or relinquish to the time?
find to what I’d aspire,
once again, strive.

And so starts another day.