A serpent coils within the breast, With scales of green and eyes of frost. It whispers tales of dispossessed, Of joys you lack, of fortunes lost. It feeds upon each bright display, Each laughter shared, each prize held high. It dims the gold of your own day, And paints your world a somber sky. The neighbor's bloom, a deeper hue, Their harvest yields a richer store. Their skies are always bright and blue, While shadows darken at your door. You see their ease, their effortless grace, Ignoring toil, the hidden strain. A bitter taste fills time and space, A constant, nagging, silent pain. Your own achievements fade and shrink, Compared to theirs, a meager thing. You stand upon the very brink Of discontent, where sorrows spring. Oh, wretched guest, this green-eyed fiend, That steals pleasure from your sight. A restless hunger, without end, That blinds you to your own true light. Release the grip, the venomous hold, Embrace the gifts that you possess. Let gratitude, a story told, Bring peace and quiet happiness. For envy breeds a barren soul, That withers in its own despair. Let kindness be your guiding goal, And banish shadows everywhere.