Do not ***** over the flourishing flowers 
of those who surround you.
Do not form conspiracies,
not even to target your saboteurs.

For it has always been immanent--their loss.
And when the day comes--their loss--
you will be left with nothing to exult over.
You will be filled with vengeance 
against no one but yourself.

For memories of your deriding 
will be the ones to remain,
and all else will be in decadence.
You will have no time for your musings,
you will acquire no self-respect. 

The littlest of their littlest actions are bound to be missed--
their awkward laugh, their freckles, their drawn-out sighs--
as your own blooming flowers will disintegrate
into amber ashes of those lost souls
that will embed in your skull,
engulfing you in madness. 

So do not ***** over the flourishing flowers 
of those who surround you,
because even if their existence had ceased,
your self-worth will still not increase.