Sin of Envy

Whilst they were cavorting in the garden of

Amidst the scented camphor and blood red roses of

Thorned by their smiles and joy of

You are the maker of my past-time jealousy

Divine acquisition, I gazed at their love woebegone

For my crippled soul want them begone

As brothers and sisters of the sins are gone

Crawl to me and swallow my being

I am the scent of suffering

The bitter taste of yearning

Resentment in hiding

Thus the name of

Envy! Offer me what they possess

Proffer your love to me as I confess

Let them not obtain what I rightfully have

I gladly accept their utter grievance

May they serve as fodder in hell

For they deserve not happiness!