Self Fulfilling Prophecy

I seem compelled to ruin,
Before ruin ruins me,
It's my self fulfilling prophecy,

Sometimes it surprises me,
Sometimes I do it purposely,
All to guard against casualty,

I am my own worst ememy.
At this war's end there will only be me,
It's my self fulfilling prophecy.


“The same hand that can write a beautiful poem, can knock you out with one punch—that's Poetic Justice.”
― "Irish" Wayne Kelly

Revisited

It's been over two years since last I'd been there,
Though it seemed like a lifetime of pain and despair,
My feet found the platform at 96th and Broadway,
My heart sank instantly,
My knees nearly gave way,
I staggered up the stairs and into the light,
In my stomach- a pit,
Of both woe and of fright,
I scampered and scurried up through the street,
My eyes squinting desperately in hopeless defeat,

I prayed half out loud to get me there soon,
I asked Him to help me find that little Saloon,
When I finally arrived and sat with my drink,
My hands still trembled,
I still couldn't think-

Like a warrior revisiting the battlesite,
Or a widow a her beloved's gravesite,

So I prayed once more,
This time for peace,
And I felt the despair begin to cease.