Envy
My eyes transmute to dark, forest greens.
(Isn't the forest supposed to be beautiful?)
She's beautiful, nothing at all like me.
I make acrimonious convictions about her, and
sadly, it provides me with such relief.
I shouldn't preoccupy myself with such maliciousness;
I am desirous of who you are.
Copyright © Morgan Richards | Year Posted 2015
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