We all serve a purpose in the world,
They said with lungs filled with pride,
And you will find yours soon,
They continued with utmost sincerity,
Moving on to the grind of their purpose,
Contributing to the machine of the world,
Where every person is a part of the system,
What if I am a spare part, I wondered,
What if my purpose is to just exist,
As a contingency to an emergency vacancy,
Because, whatever purpose which was due,
To find me, never reached to my mind,
And I am afraid to admit that to the world,
Sometimes accepting others version of you,
Is better than revealing the real version,
So, I have decided to enter the system,
Fulfilling some purpose, which was probably,
An other person’s calling, but I filled their part,
As a perfect spare, making them disposed,
And if they ever try to enter the system,
Only to see a spare which is me in their place,
Would that shatter their heart and world,
This thought often steals my good nights sleep,
With constant imposter syndrome kicking,
For I am a spare with no calling or purpose,
Filling the space of another deserving person,
Robbing them from ever fulfilling their dreams,
If world indeed is a system, people live and die,
Many are born and bring new set of purposes,
Does world have a set plan for each of them,
Or are we lying to or lied to that we people,
Need purpose to build the society, country, world,
For the goals or output whose fruits are beyond us,
A replaceable component in a well oiled machine,
Would I rather be a shiny rock on a river side,
Than a gear in this most intricate machinery,
The answer depends on how strong and rich,
I am on that certain day, mentally and financially.