If living for subsisting

or existing to survive

 

Purpose stays elusive

any sense can’t derive

 

Going about in vortex

moving at  rapid pace

 

No time for indulgence

in own personal space

 

Stuck in same tedium

since been on to avoid

 

On face near amiable

 but zest seems devoid

 

In inferred conspiracy

end's nowhere in sight

 

No choice but contend

odds in a solitary fight

 

Cards face up on table

& nothing to withhold

 

Rest all left to destiny

for enigmas to unfold

 

Trail kind of ceaseless

doubt where it’ll head

 

if ensues in notoriety

or rewards up ahead