A/N Very simple poem I decided to post here after finding it in my room among hundreds of little paper reminders and notes. Hope you enjoy, and please feel free to comment (highly encouraged) and give constructing criticism (enjoyed).
Update: I realized this poem posted kinda weird so this is hopefully a fixed version
The Doctor.
He carries a screwdriver, not a gun,
he has two hearts, not just one.
Self-christened the Doctor,
he buries his past within a mental locker.
Keeping at bay the past failures,
and the abhorred cries.
Centuries past by and he still is the protector,
all because of a Rose,
and he couldn't protect her.