Loathe

At first, I loathed them, but now I just feel pity.
I pity them because they swell their pride with flashy cars, watches, and bags.
I pity them because they are remembered not for themselves, but for their shiny things.
I pity them because they are blind to true joy, always near but never clear.
I pity them because they bathe in fleeting comfort, wearing a false crown of superiority.
I pity them because of the shame they’ll feel when they see their errors.
I pity them because even if they never realize, everyone else sees their folly.