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Compelled we are to “over-do”

And what reward do we pursue?

For stuff, for things, for love, for thanks

In order to move up in rank

Spurred on by what we think is best

Charmed life that’s better than the rest

And that is what FOMO’s about

The fear of always missing out

Greedy for experience

Spectacular in every sense

So that when tally’s made by all

You stand apart, your life enthralls

But once the day has set, what’s left?

A toppled chair, an empty net

The only one that ends up caring

Is the one obsessed with sharing

The ones you thought were friends and fans

Leave for the next thing, ‘cause they can

And that is why they say Fame’s fickle

It doles itself out, just a little

Giving taste, enticing tease

Then just as fast away it flees

To all this, I say, let it go

To self and no one else you owe

Just live content with what you’ve got

Or strive for value, not what’s bought

None are virtues worth extolling

Coming from needless doom-scrolling

Too heavy is that weight you’ll lug

If you can’t see to pull the plug…

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