Eyes of Envy
I never knew jealousy
could be so poisonous.
I never saw it lurking
behind the smile,
quiet, greedy,
waiting for my light
to become its feast.
While I have been building—
life, love, legacy—
they have been watching,
eyes glittering with want,
plotting paths that collapse
before they even begin.
And I feel sad for them.
Sad for the wasted years,
the squandered time,
the choice to wither in shadows
rather than step into their own sun.
As I rise,
my confidence grows with me.
I see myself now
not through the tainted lens
they once forced upon me,
but through truth,
through reality.
And I understand—
there is much to covet.
My love.
My family.
My fortune.
My career.
My talents.
All fruits of a garden
tended with grit and devotion.
But they had a garden once too.
They had the same chance
to cultivate, to create,
to grow something of their own.
Instead, they chose the mire,
sank into misery,
and blamed the world
for the weeds they would not pull.
So I climb,
higher and higher,
strength to strength,
while they remain,
watching from below,
grasping at smoke,
eyes of envy
fixed on a life
that will never be theirs.
And still—
I hope the future brings them,
and all who wander lost,
to their own lives at last.
That they put on blinders
to what they cannot have,
tend their own gardens,
build their own homes
brick by steady brick,
and learn to covet only
the horizons they are walking toward—
not the lives they measure themselves against.
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