Maybe it's the intent we lack,
Or we are just tired, weary,
Of listening, obeying -- simply,
If feels like the shackles of trust
Bind us tightly to our crust,
Yet only if we could go astray
Would we really know how to stay,
It's generally not long before
We realize,
Of the hefty price
That we are made to pay,
To keep us in control
In our own mind,
And happily give away,
Our freedom and our time.
Some with, while some without rocks,
Each one has to be dealt with carefully,
So that we can get what we want happily,
It's strange to stumble so often,
But there are no other options,
For if we stopped even for a day,
Who would cover up for the delay ?
What if we could predict it all,
Or maybe get some help
And make it before the fall ?
Would that help us grow and learn,
Or would it simply add more turns ?
A challenge, a contest or a game,
Irrespective of different names,
What life seems to be doing is,
Pushing us towards what remains.
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