Self unfulfilling

Of course you’d think the opposite of what I am
What I’m not is what I ought to be
Not according to me,
Behind these eyes one may think to find
All that’s free,
I do quite like the immortality of a poem,
But here her hips are immortalized on your screen,
What else was I supposed to be?

Bitterness divines its answer yet
For the reasoning comes where distance lies,
I’d wish over and over
Holding, tightly, screaming, quite like
Weeping, quietly,
Of all the answers I promised to divine
Came none.

Your face once wrought with championed dots
Now only tells stories in lies.
I believe it was me who prophesied,
My fate was mine before I knew what you looked like.