My most popular poem has 58 likes.
Second place has just 24.
It’s caused me to think, and even consider
Just writing to please the bots more.
After all, if what gets me exposure
Is whatever the A.I. likes best
Is that not the way to become popular
And say to the world, “I’m the best?”
And that, my dear readers, is madness!
It’s crap of the highest degree,
A symptom of how the internet age
Can inspire such insanity.
Art doesn’t need to be popular;
Life doesn’t need to be flawless;
When the rules of the game are to lie, cheat, and steal
Then the answer is just to be lawless.
I’m not going to think about numbers.
I’m not going to worry about views.
I’m going to write about what makes me happy
Instead of what’s big in the news.
And if you are willing to venture
To a world where you’re thought of as “lame”
I think you’ll find what happiness comes
When you too quit the internet game.
