Brain is on, but the soul is off,
Can't recall when this life took off.
Working days in a *****'s shop,
Like a wandering hare’s hop.

Living status—absurd to convey,
Indecisive and impatient still.
How should one determine his will?

Game of Thrones? That’s not what it is.
It’s merely a game for ounces.
Popping a rubber tray toy,
To crumble the gray, let stress destroy.

What more is left to say?
Tomorrow, we’ll circle back the same,
Problems—just a recurring invite.
Everything is urgent pretending it all right.
Skilled but not more intellectual.
Attending the meeting  with a happy pout
Hey ! Fresher,
Don't be afraid of this, strive.
There much more to do.
It's just a part not role of life.