Jealousy thrums through the air:
The piercing eyes, scathing words.
Regret plagues an embittered soul:
Forgetting the past, maladies unhealed.
I can see you
hear you
am jealous of you.
Why?
I have my own gifts:
My happiness, my life.
I know my own:
My chosen arc, my protecting circle.
I walk my own path:
My chosen road, my protecting highway.
You have your own curse:
Your loneliness, your lies.
Now what?
I can't see you
hear you
am not jealous of you.
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 10:14 PM UTC
Jealousy thrums through the air:
The piercing eyes, scathing words.
Regret plagues an embittered soul:
Forgetting the past, maladies unhealed.
I can see you
hear you
am jealous of you.
Why?
I have my own gifts:
My happiness, my life.
I know my own:
My chosen arc, my protecting circle.
I walk my own path:
My chosen road, my protecting highway.
You have your own curse:
Your loneliness, your lies.
Now what?
I can't see you
hear you
am not jealous of you.
This poem has an intro stanza followed by a huge piece reflected after "my protecting circle" where the poem begins to reverse its tone and the speaker overcomes his jealousy. The three quatrains are devided into two similar couplets with the following pattern
Sentence:
Idea, idea.
Request permission to use this poem