Strangely enough, I got this idea from my english book. It said, “Write a poem comparing envy and a wasp sting.” So here I am. It was, to me, very inspirational. This can be any ship you want, not including any names. R&R please.
I sit here, and watch them laughing. I feel as thouch I have been stung by a wasp. The pain is unbearable. I want to run away, but I’m forced to sit there, watching. Why can’t that be me? Shall I compare envy to a two-edged sword? There is always a goal, something to work for. But it always comes back. This is what I deserve. Why do I deserve it? Because I am me. So many things I feel. So many things, so overwhelming. I have to move, have to speak, have to do something. But I can’t. I’m too weak. I was always too weak for him. He never wanted me; he never will want me. Why did I ever think? Why did I have to be this way? Why can’t I be good enough for him? He knows I’m here now, I’m sure of it.
Hope, of course. That’s why. I feel only two things now; hope and envy. That persistent hope that never dies. Envy that has cursed me ever since I met him. Not even the sharpest blade, the strongest gun, the largest weapon can compare to what I feel now. The all consuming hurt that will never leave me.