In this final verse, before the ink runs dry,
A silent pact to simply say goodbye.
The chisel rests, the canvas turns to dust,
A whispered promise broken, turned to rust.

For love's a fire that needs a constant spark,
And mine has dwindled, leaving only dark.
The dancer's feet, once light, now heavy lead,
A silent song, a book I've left unread.

The poet's pen, a stranger to my hand,
A foreign country in a broken land.
The melody, a ghost I can't recall,
A final stand before I choose to fall.

So let the world forget the things I've done,
The battles lost, the victories unwon.
I'll slip away, a ghost in shadowed halls,
Erase myself before the last curtain falls.