I am
All I despise
Weak, needy
And unwise
Jealous
To the point
Where I cannot
Breathe or swallow
In envy of some
Insignificant
Clerk
I wallow
Just another face
Who in my life
Should have no place
Morning, noon
And night
I sit
Fuming at the mere
Thought of
This:
Her lying
Besides my beloved
Whose very death
Then and there
I covet.
Here I am reaching
An age
Where I should
Be calm
Matronly and sage
But instead I pass my days
Trying to make sense
Of someone else’s ways
Struggling to win
A game that no one
But me actually plays.