Hail, Ambition! You relentless pest,

The thief of calm, the killer of rest.

With starry-eyed whispers and cruel demands,

You drag us to “greatness” with blistered hands.

Oh, how you charm with your golden lies,

Promising thrones that scrape the skies.

"Climb higher! Climb faster!" you shout with glee,

While we trip on the bones of who we used to be.

You noble guide, you sainted brute,

With your gospel of hustle in a three-piece suit.

“More money, more status, more power!” you cry,

As friendships crumble and passions die.

What joy you bring to the chronically stressed,

The sleep-deprived souls who never feel blessed.

For why sip a drink when you could chug?

Why linger in hugs when there’s “work to be done”?

Oh, sweet Ambition, you love to proclaim,

That failure is weakness, and rest is for shame.

You sneer at “enough,” that loathsome word,

A sin to your kingdom, absurd and unheard.

And yet we chase you, like moths to the flame,

With shattered backs and no one to blame.

For you are the hero, the boss, the prize—

And we, your fools, with bloodshot eyes.

So here’s to you, Ambition, you glorious curse,

Our lives are enriched—yet somehow *worse.*

May we build our castles of paper and smoke,

While you laugh from the throne of the dreams you broke.