Mayhem

His the seasons in a day,
I never know if I should stay,
Yet my attention will never sway,
For at last I want to play.

At times his like the Sun,
With no shame in what his done,
Making you feel like his the one,
But to him you're just like everyone.

Accomplished and done,
He thought he had won.
But my pride is as Swan,
A much to common phenomenon.

In the end of days to come,
Despite him bitting his thumb,
Will I be ever so dumb,
By letting him have one last strum.

May he knot my cords or even break them,
All I know is what's sure to come is mayhem.