A/N: Just a poem I had written for English class; we had to write a poetry book, and I chose to do the Seven Deadly Sins. I related Envy and Pride to Sparrabeth, and I guess you could say Lust was too. And Wrath was Sweeney Todd, of course. The rest were just… whatever. xD
Alas, I can't rhyme for crap, nor have I ever been a poet. I also don't really care for poetry structure that has rhythm or anything, I just write freely. I'm sure you'll never read a more horrid poem. (Can I even call it that?!) I just wanted to update something so you all know I'm not dead. Read & review?
Envy:
Stupid, bloody green monster,
The things you make me, (me!) feel,
I, one whom has freedom, a great (grand) vessel, and a substantial amount of rum,
What more could a man of the sea need more?
Well…
To be wholly, completely, and entirely candid,
(Or as honest as I could be)
Now that I do reflect on it,
Perhaps there is some lacking here and there,
(I never did get that piece of eight back from that drunken bloke)
But there really is no bloody difference.
A coin or two is worth it.
So then, here is my inquiry for you,
You perfidious, feculent, little cretin,
Could you inform me as to why I feel this way, prey tell?
This resentment and jealousy that has led to the writing of (God save me) verses,
(I'm not a bloody poet!)
Please, point away.
Oh.
That.
Now look here, I'm most certainly not envious of the whelp,
So what if he got the girl in the end?
She's nothing really.
Just a lass, a murderess, a passing fancy.
Did I happen to mention she's my murderess?
I swear on best mate's grave, M'not lying.
Really.
Truly.
Oh bugger.
Bugger, bugger.
Alright, fine - you win bloody green monster,
(And I cannot believe I'm admitting this)
Perhaps I'm just a tad envious,
Albeit, who wouldn't be?
She is quite the stubborn and prideful thing,
And there's no denying that she is beautiful.
So maybe I am a bit jealous,
(Have down pat though, that it's just a bit!)
But thankfully, good old destiny has given me a way to solve this,
After all, with her dearly beloved whelp gone for ten years,
I'm sure I can persuade my way to her blackened, guilt-ridden heart.