Limitless dreams,
And an endless thirst to get there,
Vying for what others achieve,
Thinking we stand nowhere.
At first it helps us toil,
But who said that always reaps?
And when the toil is fruitless,
From purpose to oblivion, the spirit leaps.
An affliction that has caught us all,
An incessant and obnoxious race
Why is there only one winner?
Why can’t we move at our own pace?
For the fortunate one who’s at the top,
It’s lonely, so I hear
So between oblivion and isolation,
In which direction do we steer?
Felicity Of Expression 