Constantly searching for jobs, life is a living hell,
When will I get employed again, no one can tell.
I make good use of the time, write a poem a day,
No better heaven for me, if I may dare to so say.
I used to work in IT, heaven on earth,
Making meaningful products, of money no dearth.
The mind plays its tricks, first psychology, now poetry,
Felt like burning in hell, desperately pining to be free.
I've arrived at several places, the destination still eludes,
Life always keeps evolving, the current state a mere prelude.
I am eternally caught between, heaven and hell,
They are not merely out there, they are in my mind as well.
You can keep your heaven and hell, I'm content with my piece of earth,
Let me live a humdrum existence, sans the drama of constantly giving myself birth.
PS: This was first published on Medium here.
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