Dear Expiring Instagram Model

Your life is an online lie,
yellow with greed on Instagram.
Each like, each comment, each follow
fills the void in your hollow heart.

Like a peacock, you crave attention.
You smear your face with makeup,
suffocating your natural freckles
like orange fondant on a vanilla cake.

But a pretty face isn’t enough,
a flower will never fit in a yard of weeds
You swipe your Daddy’s AMEX card
Buying enough Gucci to last a lifetime.

Gucci bags, Gucci shoes, Gucci shirts
Now you’re like the Instagram girl,
your existence monogrammed with G’s
like a mannequin in a Gucci store.

A couple more things to seal the deal.
You fill your lips to bursting point
and slice off your excess nose
Surely, this will win people over.

Your Gucci skirt that’s far too small,
wrapped tightly around your ass
You take a pic and post it online
At last! You’ve got the most followers!

A split-second later after your victory
you’ve barely finished celebrating
To your shock, horror and outrage,
You’ve been surpassed by another.