Jealousy is my Achilles heel.
And you have brought me low since you found out how I feel.
The greater the man, the more jealous they are.
Jealousy connects the earth to the gleaming star.
If you admire someone inferior to me
The ratio of my pain is my superiority.
And this is the cross that I must hold:
To see you love bronze, when I am gold.
Now here is the prophecy, and the great soul’s curse,
To sink below the bad, to be even worse.
So, if you cannot love great poetry.
Go love a dog. Leave me.