Attention, fame seekers,
@yonar on Twitter
Prepare your momentum.
Let there be enough to you
When your God,
The mighty spotlight grants you
Fifteen unspanned minutes of
Corroded attention —
For who gets all they asked for
Might regret they ever wished
To take that stage.
Heads up, kid, obscurity is calling.
Time to play.
Be ready for sedated and sated
Self-proclaimed opinion makers
Flashing teeth
To weed the dated, the weak,
The one-trick my little ponies,
Wannabees, posers, and phonies
Copycatting ruling champions
From the ever-thinning herd —
Well, ain’t that cute but it’s wrong.
Do the work, or get hurt.
Dress for heat, or get burned.
Time’s up, get ready,
It’s your turn.
Mic drop, forgotten,
Just like that, you’re unseen,
The faceless masses moving on
To the next victim waiting in the wings.
Still reeling, left behind,
Bleeding, drained, defeated, flash-burned-out.
You’re going, going, gone —
Game over, man,
That’s all she wrote.
In the ruins of the dream
Reality blurs.
You’re too numb to care,
Too worn to crawl back up,
Let alone to
Insert coin.
Winner, winner —
I chickened out
And got some dinner instead.
Winner, winner,
There’s no happiness in fame.
Winner, winner —
It’s a shame that it still needs to be said,
That there is no opinion greater
Than our own.
