I predict things sometimes
And it's all just speculation
Though I've found it's often true
Yet I don't like marking it down or telling
Since then I jinx it to never materialize
Such as the would-be Practicum 2013
Everyone else can watch as their dreams untie-
So why can't I?
But at least it was confirmed my allegations were true
And though that may hurt more
It's a fulfilling kind of hurt
A prettier hurt than any I've recently felt
A glorious masochistic hurt
Which makes me smile as I cry because it proves two things
I am worthwhile
And I am loved here
Loved by people I adore more than the stars
And, my dear, that's more fulfilling than any empty happiness-
Handed easily to me at the place I just fled from
I can be presumptuous here
Though I supposedly should have learned my lessons
If my predictions fall flat here, it's to make room for better
And that's what I want of life
Which is why no one in this wide earth can convince me I'm dumb to stay
In fact, I think moving back to Minnesota is the smartest thing I've done in a while
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