The Sadim Touch

Even the great King Midas came to regret his gifted touch

Seeing the curse it truly was for all touched turned to gold

Yet unlike Midas, I did not come to slowly realise and regret

From the outset the touch I seemed given reared ugly head

Ruins all around, crumbles joy to ash, all choices will be wrong

An inherent pull towards self-sabotage, perhaps to avoid future pain?

This curse I feel born with, destined to carry inside forevermore

Like a sinner’s mark, the punished's millstone and bewitched one's aura

For your own sake, run! Do not come near! It will touch and destroy you

Perhaps very soon, or after long and patient years waiting in the shadow

But trust on this; my touch will turn all one day to ruin, to dust, and pain

The evidence now to me is clear as dawn’s first light, mockingly reflecting

All past choices, also new ones yet to prove ill and wrong with time's touch

That ‘dream job’ I’d be in forever, only for it all to fall away like dust in rain

Sure fire investments for others, for I? Cursed one, now less than nothing

The act of denying oneself for far too long, brings its own self punishment

Prospective love how many times now ruined before it begins to bloom?

One by one they go and I am alone again, as it seems it must and should be

Why ruin another life with that cursed touch? At least let them be happy

Allow their starlight to burn bright, let mine fade in void's empty darkness

My life-long touch of Sidam, bestowed at birth or perhaps down family tree

Far worse I fear, far more damaging to others than golden touch of Midas