Ceaseless fight

At a matured age,
where the appetite of wallet is empty,
where sleep denies,
a rugged path of an aspirant fills with pity,

At a matured age,
where we collect tiny hopes
  ,like some precious pebbles in the babbling bay,
where luck itself seems reluctant,
It's not a midas touch, but an island of shy.
 
At a matured age,
where motivational lines works
   ,like a short timed antidote,
where, random thoughts travels faster than light,
It's, no way out that has no substitute.
 
Likes a last man standing game,
where we stand despite every punch life offer,
where everything seems randomness,
It's a hardcore game of ruthless calibre.

It's feels like, we are in a strangers island,
where we cried often in lonely nights,
We, every time tend to rise like a phoenix
    ,despite every onslaught,
It's not a lullaby, it's a ceaseless journey,
   ,where we have to fight.