I could swallow a sea of comparisons
And gain fifty pounds of worry,
But even becoming ill would not hinder me
From wanting to stomach more, until I’ve had the most
Or from wanting to climb ever higher
Just to be nearer and see it clearer
Than everyone else
But God how it’s making me sick
This stuff is shifting in my bowels and
Jumping on my head
Whispering abasing words
Like they’re all so much better
But after years of discontentment
And disappointment
I don’t care much
I just want to be rid of the weight
They can be the victors to the very end
And compete forever and wildly celebrate
But I will forfeit, and finally ease the pain
By excreting this sea of comparisons
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem