components of a tragedy

they say i’ve got great intuition

and a fortune teller’s soul.

i hold my crystal ball

and see my future’s all been sold.

i marry myself to belligerence.

my dowry’s full of guilt.

the honeymoon comes with virulence.

for the heart’s sure to wilt.

my womb is pulsing with foreboding,

my milk lactonic and diseased,

this home - an eco chamber of loathing;

my god is sure to be displeased.

my past was best served hot,

in a cradle full of spite,

with daggers in my cot,

and a match for me to strike.

yet they believe it’s just my prophecy -

herculean soldier of the new age

but that phrase has since lost it’s novelty,

and the world has gained a new war to wage.

which is my achilles heel?

my greed, my guilt, or my ghosts?

i strike arrows just to kill,

i wield shields just to live.

so, where does my icarus fall?

indeed, the sun is sure to scald

and the moon vibrates with malaise.

alas, this earth is hell ablaze.