Another angsty Doctor after Doomsday poem. But in my defense, he was often angsty and depressed about losing Rose so it's kind of too easy.
Fate is the Master of Time
It's stupid of me to think fate would grant me grace,
Or let me hold onto something so precious, such a perfect angel,
Who whispered a now false promise of forever.
No, it cruelly dangles it closely in front of my gaze,
Allows me to desire it above all things,
Then rips it away and smashes it into tiny, little, ungraspable pieces,
That slip through the merciless cracks of time,
Before I could hold them and try to glue them together,
To try and form what is now lost to me
Yes, it may have been a fractured form of what it was,
A broken winged angel scarred,
But my angel who'd still be at my side
An angel who's hand still would fit perfectly in mine.