Unending

Endless repetition,
it’s strange how life flows,
a series of do-overs,
a routine that grows.

Over and over,
an endless dance,
much like the tide,
predictable trance.

Almost too mundane,
too ordinary to care,
many try to avoid it,
seeking thrills rare.

The shrill sensation,
of feeling alive,

vain and fleeting,
they strive and strive.

But truth be told,
that’s just another routine,
from thrill to thrill,
in a quest so keen.