There's a monster.
It doesn't live under my bed,
Or make the floorboards creak at night.
It doesn't tap at the window,
Or make eerie sounds.
It doesn't cast shadows on the wall,
Or grope at my throat.
It lives in my heart,
And its green eyes gleam.
It whispers things in my ear with its raspy little voice,
Reminding me of things I can't have.
The monster grows stronger,
Feeding on the negativity that I provide with every desirous glance.
This green-eyed monster weakens my mind,
And my heart is consumed.