I give to complacency when I can,
These days are refreshing and hard.
I seem to not know where I am going,
But, at least I know where I have been.
These days I slowly progress and give in,
To hardships, trials, and strive.
I give no concern to my struggle,
It is just the means to my end.
I do become so public,
As I toil with the nine to five.
It is at the end of my wits,
When I desire the calming ideal of less commitment.
It is strange days to be what I aspire,
Which is more than just a nameless number.
To keep myself informed is to keep myself on trial.
To be not what is wanted for the day,
Is so far from what it is I require.
I must keep shoveling further,
To keep steaming to the future only I could desire.