What to Do Less Of

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To have more,

To do more,

One day, the devil whispered.

Saying it was for my sake,

Saying it was for my success,

With sweet praise

It looped strings around my body

And slowly turned me into a puppet.

Evil always arrives that way.

With the closest face,

The kindest expression,

The softest smile.

Suddenly, I wonder.

Have I spoken like that as well?

Do more,

Have more,

Keep going—

With those words, have I ever quietly

Ground down someone’s last support.

If so, then am I

Truly any different

From what I claimed to despise?

Do less,

Telling someone, “That’s enough now,” all the same,

Might someday become

Another chain for someone.

Greed becomes poison,

Laziness becomes poison,

Doing more, doing less—

At a certain point,

All turn into evil with the same face.

In the end, the question

Is not what we add,

Nor what we subtract—

But which voice

Inside me is moving me.

And that voice—

Is it truly mine?