Sometimes I wonder if the trees are green because they are jealous of the clouds, to grow so tall and yet never be able to hold hands with the sky, to never be good enough so when it rains its really just the clouds crying out for the lost friendship and they say the grass is always greener on the other side but that's only true because neither can reflect the meadow in your eyes that I often gaze into wondering if its really me you see and not some sycamore because no matter how luciously sinful nature is it'll always be beautiful and I will never compare to that emerald jewel because I'll always be a **** billowing in the land of self pity and outward envy.