The middle is the sag, that no one notices or cares,
Most wise men retreat, only the fool persists and dares.
One step after the other, purely from habit and drill,
Oblivious to the dreariness, that could easily kill.
I've traveled ahead so far, no point in backtracking now,
Let me take that step, keep moving forward anyhow.
There is little joy left in voyage, the end still beyond reach,
I cant even turn around, fearing my promise will breach.
Can I rest for a while, maybe skip traveling for a day,
What if that becomes a habit, I fall in love where I stay?
Cant afford to be complacent, or let me off the hook,
Have to meet my daily target, have to go by the book.
What started as a passion, has now become a daily chore,
And you've started laughing on me- Oh! what a drag, what a bore!
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