Seasons come and seasons go,

And all life gradually changes from young to old,

But there's one solitary thing that none can ignore;

That sometimes, even the best of lovers and friends,

Must acknowledge that what they have must now end,

To be in short, nevermore;

And so begins the story of my life,

Which so early on was introduced into strife,

Emotional pangs set into motion by a loved one fleeing out of the door;

One who likened his very blood to mere refuse,

And to escape my sight, used excuse after excuse,

To keep me in his mind rather not ever, but nevermore;

But, over paternal troubles however I dare not for long whine,

For there is much more that I have on my mind,

The past being obsolete, the present chaotic, the future unsure;

Numerous problems lay upon me in a mile-high stack,

My health, my emotions, my nerves constantly under attack,

To the very brink I've been driven, sanity for me is nevermore;

Now I anxiously wait for my personal twilight,

But, to hasten it would seem like a violation of all that is right,

So for now, I wait, and see what else life has in store;

It'll probably not be but for so much longer,

'Till my last breathe, and all grows somber,

The day in which from then on out, I'll be forever…never… more.