Inspired by the chapter of identical title in Industrial Society and Its Future manifesto written by Theodore J. Kaczinsky a.k.a. "The Unabomber".
While no sooner you reach one goal than you move on to the next
Still no sense of purpose, never satisfied, never stay at rest
"Crisis of identity" they say comes midway through life
In search of fulfillment it's no time yet for settling down.
Meals and roof over your head cost only obedience,
You'd be envied by your ancestors at the first glance
But (they) never learned how frustrating man-made insecurity imposed on them feels.
In absence of autonomous choices
Made under handed down rigid orders
Your efforts are deprived of significance
Artificial aims handed out to chase
Success depending on countless others
It's past hope to live through the power process
"It is only the one whose need for
purposeful attainments has been satisfied
during her life who is best prepared
to serenely accept the end of that life"
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