It's that self fulfilling prophecy that
hunts me down and stifles me,
if I could only stop projecting,start
collecting stamps of fortune,
take rooms with a different view,
who knows then what I could do.

On the rotting planks of
thanks but no thanks please,appeasing all
I fall and fail to see another self
fulfilling prophecy.

Peering through, another
what else could I be or do,
I wonder who
I really am.