My name is jealousy,
I am a disease, your inner hurricane,
No matter, if you are a Buddhist, or a prelacy,
I’ll attach and make you feel insane.

I start living in your mind first,
Then I take your body, part by part,
And if you don’t **** me, it gets worse,
Lastly I attack your heart.

I drink from a fountain of self-hate,
Your insecurity is my food,
My hobby is robbing you off from faith,
I live for putting you in a bad mood.

I will make sure you always doubt,
And I’ll destroy all of your relationships,
I will be like poison in your mouth,
You’ll always taste me on your lips.

Your only cure for me is you,
You have to get that in your head,
Learn to love your imperfections,
Only then you’ll make me dead.

If fifty suitors claim their love for you
Of them I'm in, how could you end with me?
At least there five of height that mine outdo
And twice of those in waist cannot be he,
But if returns their one for cuteness sake
Then ten on cuteness scale would fail to meet,
Yet here be sure of mine; my measures make;
Another four less pretties tho' they're sweet;
Depart no less with three for jealousy
And two their friends, by loyalty they leave,
Requests that seven return to prelacy
Whilst eight recall in passing loves they grieve:

Between the last and I, for you to view
But such the love of mine that I be two.