I often find myself in search of meaning.
In my increasingly irrational existence,
Knowing too much is a dangerous thing.
I fear I’ve succumbed to resistance.
If only ignorance can be disguised as bliss,
I would gladly spend my life unaware
of the many treasures and happiness
resting beyond my reach somewhere.

Instead, every morn I wake and face
a monotonous eight to five scene.
I wish I have the power to replace
the sun, moon, and all that’s in between.
Imagine in a parallel universe
where mistakes are few and petty;
I won’t be subject to loneliness’s curse
and misfortune is but a hyperbole.

It is time to put life under review
and reflect whether this is truly for me.
Am I strong enough to push through
the sorrow of this soliloquy?
Or will the Will fizzle and burn,
and see my efforts in vain –
lest fortune’s wheels never turn
once in my favour again.