It seems for the first bit
I was always **Gatsby**, 
Lightly tugging on threads
but never having anything *unravel*. 
I'd march madly through the world
Missing the point, by love I was blind. 
Daisy, oh Daisy, 
To have her love again
'Twould be divine. 

**And then I lost my Daisy.**
*"She"* flirted with the idea of a return.
But it never stuck, call it bad luck
Regardless, a lesson was learned. 

In Part Three, the now, 
**Gatsby** became Nick.
I saw my own self.
**My self drawn hell**
And I knew **Gatsby** 
*couldn't stick*.

*And I thought quietly to only myself...*

To never return to **Gatsby**, old sport, 
would be quite swell.