Most Likes

It's all a silly game, 
This competition for cleverness, 
These entertaining circuses of wit. 
A thought that's given to you 
Must be crafted into having the most appeal 
Because the smallest error can destroy the phrase, 
Diminishing your likes, 
Sending your unique observation 
To the bottom of the pile, 
Burying it under the refuse 
Of what may have been finer thoughts, 
Or thoughts that were simply expressed better. 
It is likely this poem won't get any likes. 
It will be relegated to the back pages of Google, 
Where few eyes will ever see it. 
For the rest of us, we can only pray, 
That someday we'll turn a phrase so appealing 
That our names will decorate the tops of web pages, 
Fatefully settling above all the others. 
Hundreds of people will like our comments, 
Perhaps thousands. 
These will be our five seconds of fame, 
Printed on a news story or viral video, for all time, 
Like the way television made us immortal 
For as long as its invention allowed it.