The Overachiever’s Lament

In the mirror’s glassy gaze, I see a flawless face,
A polished mask of triumph, each line a sculpted grace.
The morning starts at four a.m., with yoga, tea, and plans,
A checklist full of victories, in meticulously marked spans.

I juggle dreams with deadlines, ambitions with finesse,
I balance work and workouts, and the constant need to impress.
From boardrooms to the gym floor, I wield a flawless might,
With every task a summit, and every goal a height.

I dine on quinoa salads, in a gourmet-charmed café,
With kale and chia dreams served on a porcelain buffet.
My wardrobe’s full of power suits, in shades of corporate gray,
Each tie and heel an armor for the battles of the day.

My social feed is curated, a parade of pristine cheer,
With captions full of victories and smiles that mask the fear.
Yet in this grand achievement, in this never-ending race,
I find a hollow echo where the joy was once embraced.

For every accolade and trophy, each prize upon the shelf,
Is just a fleeting shimmer in a world that’s lost itself.
I’ve scaled the peaks of greatness, I’ve conquered every test,
But in the rush to be the best, I’ve left my soul to rest.

So here’s to every triumph and the hustle that it takes,
To build a life of grandeur while the spirit slowly breaks.
For in this quest for greatness, amid the constant strive,
I’ve lost the simple pleasure of just feeling truly alive.