Red With Envy

Jealousy rooted from lack of perfection The gentlest fangs of sin bite deep Admiration in a word, on the edge of obsession Digging further then superficiality An obscure desire to resemble another Aching to taste the insuperable value of his being The pain of inadequate results rack the heart with deprivation Yet some how give rise to aspiration in the self. Somewhere in the twisted knot of envy and benevolent spite Hope is manufactured in the form of adoration. The most beautiful thing that passion can offer.