The Chalice of Comparison

The grim teacher sinking deeper,

Seeping into our digital tincture,

A tart taste of the comparison game,

Mixed with the sweet, alluring syrup of fortune and fame.

“It’s not fair!”—we exclaim,

As we scroll to stay sane,

Whilst the inner pain fails to wane.

The endless ego dripping,

From the constant self-sipping.

Drowning drunk in pools of pride,

Gulping the gallows’ lies,

To hypnotize our thirsty eyes.

Stimulate to rest.

Commiserate at best.

Deteriorate in jest.

Slaves to the code, a lonely abode,

Crowned by the weight of comparison’s throne,

Drinking alone.