Self Fulfilling Prophecy

Is this the life I was meant to live?

Is it supposed to be like this?

Who's to say it couldn't have been


more successful?

Could I have invented a machine that revolutionized science?

Or become a symbol for tolerance,

and inspired a social movement? 

Every moment

has the potential for greatness-

is my future predispositioned?

Or can I derail from the track

and live with each decision?

If            If            If
So preoccupied with what could have been,

I'm blowing my only opportunity

to live in the present.

So afraid of my future, 

I've become self destructive

towards my dreams and aspirations.

This poem is about: 


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