Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

And so what if I'm

the sea? Churning, relentless,

mutable, angry,

//

always so angry,

burning with unquenchable

Greek fire in the depths,

//

that roiling, savage

place I know so well. I, both

captive and captor.

//

Who cares if I'm the

moon? Cold, distant, many-faced

queen of dust. Barren.

//

Forgotten dreams and

promises sprinkled across

airless, dead craters.

//

My beauty is skin

deep, better from a distance.

Venture too close and

//

the gilded veneer

cracks and gives way completely,

crushing, empty truth.

//

I am the place where

you come to die, snatched by rage,

stolen to silence

//

that drags others down

rather than face that hollow

growing thing within.

///