A cunning creature recently I met

Whose tendrils into thoughts I thought were mine 

Have snuck; and made me say things I regret,

Oblivious to jealousy's malign 

 

Yet subtle presence in my tainted soul. 

But even when I recognise its eyes

Of poison green, I still cannot control

Exactly how I act to you: its lies 

 

Its hateful lies beget in me a spite,

Which with my sense and reason coexist,

And though I'm wrong (I know I'm wrong, you're right),

Still all your actions into insults twist.

 

Those bitter eyes my love for you deplores,

But aren't as green, ironically, as yours.