A/N: This is a free-verse poem about a certain madman with a blue box.
It was a curse.
Immortality.
It wasn't a good thing
It meant losing the people
closest to you
It meant watching from the sidelines
hopeless
as the world around you
C*H*A*N*G*E*S
It meant not knowing where to fit in
how to fit in
A curse.
To him, it was worse.
There was a story
about a man
traveling
traveling through
space
and
time
and bringing happiness
wherever he went.
Stories weren't real.
Mistakes were made
and that's how he
lost everything
and gained everything
But you can't change
T*I*M*E
It's too
wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey
he had accepted his Destiny
and kept Fate by his side
and when it didn't always work out
he could only
close the door behind him
and move on.