In the Beginning, you were given:

Two eyes - to see the universe
Two ears - to hear the TARDIS song
Two feet - to dance among the stars
Two hands - to bring your friends along
Two lips - to speak in tongues so sweet
Two hearts - to love all you meet

Then you grew old, and these are what you have:

Two eyes - that can see naught but hate
Two ears - that ring with screams of fear
Two feet - that flee the Storm innate
Two hands - drenched with blood and tears
Two lips - that taste of ash and smoke
Two hearts - mangled, shredded, broke

Then you met a girl who saved you -
and these are all the things she gave you:

Two eyes - to see again the light
Two ears - to hear her laugh and rave
Two feet - to dance with her all night
Two hands - to hold and keep her safe
Two lips - to speak of life again
Two hearts - to trust once more in men

Then she was gone, and this is what is left:

Two eyes - like ice that burn with pain
Two ears - that ache to hear her speak
Two feet - that run as if they're lame
Two hands - that can't touch what they seek
Two lips - again taste only ash
Two hearts - again like shattered glass

You gain a friend, you lose a friend,
Over and over, and in the end:

Eyes
(How often were they renewed? How many times did the blackness recede and return?)
- too tired of the strobing dark and light -

Ears
(How often did screams overwhelm laughter? How many times did you lose a precious voice?)
- almost deaf to cries of delight -

Feet
(How many miles have you run? How often did you flee the disasters you have caused?)
- blistered, bloodied, endless flight -

Hands
(How many did you hold, then cast away? How many did you condemn rather than forgive?)
- merciless in the unending fight -

Lips
(How many names did you speak into life? How many more did you speak into death?)
- speaking words that will never heal the blight -

Hearts
(How often did you break? How many pieces did you leave scattered through time and space?)
- shattered -
(Was there ever a time when they were whole?)
- broken -
(It's been so long)
- torn -
(I can't remember)
- shredded -
(Did I perhaps start out with one?)
- and never made right -

Hearts
Do I have two or four or ten
after breaking again and again?

My dearest doctor of old,

Your story forever told,

You fly along through time and space,

After bad monsters you chase,

Protecting the children of the world,

Stopping time from being unfurled,

The people you met and traveled with,

Clara believed you were a myth,

She found you in your palace of cloud,

Far from the ground in a stark white shroud,

You had lost all hope,

Up in your palace you mope.

Then Clara you met,

It was fate and was set,

That the girl twice dead,

Would clear your head,

The lonely old doctor with his bluest blue box,

Twas only Clara that could knock off his socks,

Are you alright, she asks

I'm always alright, he replies

But he's not alright

Not at all

And he hasn't been

Not in a long time

Do you want to talk about it, she asks

No, he says

Never

Promise me you'll deal with it then, she says

Nothing happens

Fresh curiosity

Fresh concern

Can you deal with it this time, she asks

He answers now

Of course I can deal with it, he assures

He'd like to believe it

He really would

He wants to be able to deal with it

But he just doesn't know if he's able to

Part of his mind is telling him that no, he can't deal with this

He doesn't like listening it that part of himself

He listens to that part that says that he can deal

Though it is less sure

And these two mindsets, they clash together

Each hoping for supremacy over the other

Can

Can't

**Won't

You are

the Doctor,

flying through time and space

in your little blue box

that's not-so-little

on the inside.

You've had many friends-

companions-

over the course

of your adventures

but

something always

goes wrong

and

they leave you,

or you

leave them.

And there are

gaps of time

when you are

alone and

it eats you up

because

in the silence

you can hear

your memories clamoring,

shouting for your attention

and you do not

want to hear them.

So you

continue on,

running from your past

though you always

tell yourself

you aren't

and some days

you believe it.

But the truth

is always there

lurking

in the back of your mind

like a hungry

predator.

So you keep running

and tell yourself you aren't,

because

admitting you are

is the first step

to facing

your deepest fears

and staring in the face

all your mistakes,

all the times you've been wrong

all the faces you've lost

all the wrongs you've done

and you are afraid

that they will swallow you whole

if you try.

So you don't.