A Self-Fulfilling Prophecy
A handful of sorrowful years have passed
and now I bare my shame.
A deserving fate for one miscast;
deserving of the blame.
For I was flailing as a dreamer,
focussed on the past.
Running from the future,
losing all at last.
I thought I knew the pathway,
ordained for me by you,
So rightly threw my all away,
and left her with no due.
A selfish mournful man of fear,
in years of wallowing had found,
a truth that I did overhear
of future wants unbound.
I must accept that I am, in-fact,
a selfish loathe-full man,
deserving of no love from you.
since it was I that ran.
But in the bleakest of exchange;
truths realised at last:
I wish I could go back to change
my decisions of the past.
No children nor lovers nor painful life,
do I now wish to have.
Just an everlasting soulmate,
to power through and laugh.
So I will wait for future crossed,
when I can tell you plain:
that for all the things that I have lost,
you define my pain.
I will work as long as time allows,
if that is what it takes,
to speak to you of love and vows,
to make up for my mistakes.
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