"The struggle to the heights is enough to fill the heart of man. We must imagine Sisyphus happy."
Sisyphus only has to push one thing. I have to press 37 buttons in the span of a Planck length in order to dodge the attacks of a firebomb throwing lanky slave to avoid getting one-shot.
Sisyphus has never truly struggled. He has never fought the Godskin duo solo, never watched the fat man roll as the fat man does.
Sisyphus has never even fallen to a single, weak enemy that should be easily beatable. Never been mocked by the dead for doing as they have done, which is to die.
I wrote a poem to honour his lack of struggle.

Sisyphus, pusher of the boulder, struggle in human form,
How dare you claim such a title, when you have an eternity to mourn?
I have mere moments, to drink from my flask of tears,
While you have days and days, to push while drinking beers.

I've watched good men and better pots die,
But the bosses leave me no time to cry,
They swing and swing and fly and fly,
All I can do is try, try, try...