Answers

He was in his twenties; most of his generation was such

Like most others, he too was haunted by a dreary specter, a dark void

That sinking feeling of not knowing what to do with your life

It gripped him, day in, day out; like clockwork it was

As he boarded the morning metro, the sights were his only solace

He could see people moving around busy, focused and driven

What drives him though, is something he didn’t have a answer for

Maybe the answer was staring him straight in the face; he couldn’t tell


He worked a 9 to 9 job; most of his generation did as such

Like most others, he didn’t exactly like his work; who does though?

He was used to the clicks and clacks of the keyboards at work

Maybe it reminded him of the thing he likes best; that could be it

As he typed away at the day’s report, the music was his only solace

He could see every one had a motive, a purpose, a passion, a drive

What drives him though, is an answer he is still searching for

Maybe the answer was staring him straight in the face; he couldn’t tell


He had a pet project; most of his generation have one such

Whether that pet project dictated his life was up for grabs; he couldn’t tell

As he typed away at the limerick that he thought of, a touch playful

He was overcome with a calm and a sense of purpose unexplainable

As he boarded the night train, he could see everyone around him

Everyone around him had a purpose and drive to pursue their vision

What drives him though, is an answer that is still a riddle at best

Maybe the answer was staring him straight in the face, he couldn’t tell

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