It is my time,
I cannot rhyme,
I hate to go,
But it doesn't flow,
It is hard,
But my life is chard,
I don't feel pain,
That I cannot gain,
People are harsh,
People are mean,
But there words always tear the seam,
The seams in which,
The fairies cannot stich,
I know I am leaving,
But keep on beleving,
Because nobody is ever really truly gone.
