When I believe,
Myself to be a saint,
I imagine a white plain.
Which is when,
Something brilliantly seeps into view,
Flowing in and staining the sheet,
Burning red.
When I believe,
Myself to be truly happy for someone,
Although I see no force of fire nearby,
The blood red sheet catches fire.
It burns slowly,
Licking up the edges first,
Making its way up towards the center.
Which is when I realize,
I should have stopped,
The flow of red earlier.
Because it is,
The centuries\' old sin,
The reason why The Devil,
Was disgraced in the first place,
The Sin of Jealousy.