Staying Motivated

I used to be hungrier.

I used to be hungrier.
Praise has shaped me complacent.
Whenever I face it, I’m chased by moderate success.
The kind our parents fought for then accepted.

If it wasn’t for the regret, way down stream, I may have called it by now. But there’s a man I see, me, in a button up, at age 140 with robot lungs — the art still trapped in his heart. He makes me want to kill myself.