WHEREFORE ART THOU, ENVY?
Do you feel that? Your body, becoming a playground for the children of discontent. They race, eager to trample the presence of selflessness. It begins a mere itch, meaningless. Nothing more than a passing sensation. But that’s all it takes. A predestined ambush.
Bodies of bitter soldiers charge at the dome that conceals your truth. Slaughtered purity, defeated compassion. Its sinless existence washed away by the torrential rain of corruption. Inside the tainted soil it breeds. Opportunist. Thereupon the battlefield of resentful longing, it blossoms, its sight painfully beautiful.
And within the historic ruins of the mind, there begins confusion. For spite still envelops the air, its discarded appearance does nothing to alter its everlasting occupancy.
O envy, envy! Wherefore art thou, envy?
Bodies of bitter soldiers charge at the dome that conceals your truth. Slaughtered purity, defeated compassion. Its sinless existence washed away by the torrential rain of corruption. Inside the tainted soil it breeds. Opportunist. Thereupon the battlefield of resentful longing, it blossoms, its sight painfully beautiful.
And within the historic ruins of the mind, there begins confusion. For spite still envelops the air, its discarded appearance does nothing to alter its everlasting occupancy.
O envy, envy! Wherefore art thou, envy?
spoken word:
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