throttles your better impulse
and leads you so astray
oh, that I could scour your soul
and find the fault, dig it out at root
I see the poison plant peek out
unfurl the slick green leaves
like groping fingers
between the branches
of nurturing shade
hiding from the sun
but cannot grasp
its stinging nettles
nor dare I brave the thorns
that enclose it so
but would that you tend
your own garden
before the insidious botany
of your jealousy
renders all round it rotten
food for fungus and decay
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