Who do you think you are? Your nose up in the sky, as if the air we breathe is too good for your lungs, your mouth twisted in a disdainful grimace and your head tilted so far back. I hope you break your neck as you hold it like that, then we would see it loll right down, blank eyes towards the ground, just as they should be.
They say eyes are the window to the soul. In your case, at least, I think it’s true. This green colour of jealousy must be why you hate the world. What you might be jealous of, I do not know, as you are a stunning masterpiece of beauty. Though I suppose your jealousy could be of your own reflection, it wouldn’t be surprising.
Once, I wished you would cry, as most are ugly when they do, but when you did, your tears became jewels on your cheeks, your eyes sparkled and shone like stars, and I could only hate you more. Beauty such as yours should not be wasted on a heart or tongue as rotten as the ones you possess.