Artificial Sweetener

Sometimes it’s hard to say what’s worse

The illness or the cure

Of symptoms which alert us

That an ailment has incurred

Are feelings of self-loathing worse

Than blind self-serving pride?

Is not remorse and change better

Than secret sins we hide?

Can we take a pill

That will absolve us of all wrong?

Will intoxication clean the slate

Or mind for long?

Is conscience best anesthetized

Through vanity and lies

Which make us soul dependent

And addicted to vice twice?

Then how can we presume to lift

Our self-esteem with things

Which possess no intrinsic link

To life, or soul, or being?

Though many status symbols

Seek to boost up shallow egos

True bitterness of soul

Cannot be sweetened by placebos