A shackled existence I lead,
Tied to my work, I seem to be,
Straight jacketed with deadlines,
Ceasing to persist for none else.
Is there a way out ever?
Am I sealed in an airtight box?
Will I be able to come up for air?
Can I choose to wish it all away?
Pretext I am probably seeking,
to hide behind, so my pathetic
excuse for the life I seem to lead,
doesn't seem so dismal.