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.