Those Damn Robins

I envy the soaring robin
With his red thumping breast
While I lie in a buried den
A lump of coal in my chest

I envy the sunrise in bloom
Pouring golden streams over all
While I pace inside a dark room
Wishing to paint gold on the walls

I envy the man of marble
Stone strong and solid form
While I age like rotting garbage
Weakness and sickness I deplore

I envy the common fly
Who's happy with his pile of dung
I envy his level of contentment
For that's a thing of which I have none