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Envy is an evil flower; If I pluck her, she withers,
and if I touch her, she shivers.
I can only look at her colours and hate her for
what she possess, and I do not -
Yet, these fields will never be emptied, or die
they will pass from my generation
into the next, they will be plucked and wither
in the hands of others people -
Indeed, others will harvest what I have seen,
in the fields of my jealousy,
and they will think it beautifull and praise it
and then sell it for pennies -
Ah, the destruction of their hopes and dreams
their illusions and childlike ideals
I will sow this nightmare seed in this poetry
and laugh as it consumes them - |