This was an almost perfect face, with a conquering smile, a flattering nose, sultry lips, marvelous hair and in her eyes, in her eyes there was hell.

Who is she, what's her name?  Who could have transformed the flame in uncontrollable fire? who could have turned the river into dryness? who made a plain out of the mountain? Who could have planted not seeds but a handful of thorns? Who can transform the sweetness into bitterness? Who is the demon who has taken control of the expression, of the heart, of the reason and of the most intimate thoughts? Who is the one who must have everything with abundant grace and then turns into a panting demon? Who is the one who seemed to have tenderness but has madness instead today?

Who is the one who arrives home and gets the walls full of blood, cursing the rooms, hating as much as evil itself? Who has the right to destroy the path, to cut off the flower and to bury the sword into you?

Who is killing you and forces you to kill? Who gave you everything and then took everything away, leaving you shouting as furious animal? and also leaving you badly hurt and who without knowing and in a mad state, licks the wounds, to open them even more? Who shows off good and accumulates so much evil? The answer is: Jealousy.