You sit in the corner of my mind and taunt me.
You burn deeper than jealousy, and sting sharper than mere resentment.
You tell me that she's more beautiful that me. You tell me that she's got everything I want.
You tell me that her hair is so silky, it makes mine look brittle in comparison.
And her skin? Not even a competition.
Don't even get me started on her body, you whisper with that devious smirk.
You tell me and I listen.
I can't help it, you're so charmingly persuasive. You burn so red-hot that once you've touched me, you're always there.
You make my stomach churn with a sickly acid, and my mind fill with such an anger.
I just want to be like her.
Envy tells me that I want be to be like her.
You're tearing me apart, Envy. You burn so hot, you make my heart cold. It's not like she tried to be better than me.
'But just she is' you push on.
I don't want to get so frustrated that I cry over her, you keep telling me just how great she is.
And just how great I'm not.
Who's side are you on?
You tell me that you want to make me better than her, but do you really?
Because it feels like you just want to burn me to ashes.
