Spiraling Question

What is the meaning of life?
This thing that we go through day to day.
I ask this question to myself and others.

Birth and learning, constant progression
Preaching and schooling with intense aggression
Do this, do that over and over
The same old cycle over and over

Wake up, get ready, do your work
Be it school, be it building, or digging up dirt
Go home, go eat, get some sleep
And yet there's some strange feeling, coming from the deep.

This strange sickening feeling in the pit of my gut,
As I feel like this pacing is entrenching me in a rut,
This same old thing this same old pain
Feeling like I'm constantly under a cloud of rain

I can't take this feeling that it's all meaningless
That this life, temporary as it is, leaves behind only nothingness
How am I supposed to accept this fate?
When all I've wanted to do is to aspire to something great.

I refuse, I refuse to accept this end,
This reality that so many before have managed to bend
And I wish to write a second act
To this strange macabre play that will have the audience packed

A whimsical display of dreams and nightmares,
A twisted view of life's inventory and wares.
All spawned from this typhoon of emotion
Thrashing my thoughts about like a small boat on the ocean.