The phases of a person's life are like the incarnations of a timelord.
You take on differing personas all throughout your life, some of which you cherish, some of which you were particularly odd in,
and some of which you wish to forget.
You also create a unique look for yourself within each persona; whether it be a small change or a large one.
And in the end, your clock is ticking, and when the time comes, you'll be out of new lives to live.
'Round the clock, wind the gears,
it's been going for 50 years.
A wrinkled face comes anew;
sparks the question, "Doctor Who?"
But our tale here is not quite done;
all good books have a long run.
In closes the page we all always dread;
the very last page, to where the story is led.
Eleven's hour is done, twelve's is at hand
But will the TARDIS safely land?
The last chapter, it now stands by the door
our story soon ends in the fields of Trenzalore.
No two lives are ever the same
A promise you make, that is your name
However it goes, just take your route
Because eventually, your time runs out
And when the clock strikes Twelve, you'll see
That everything ends eventually
One story ends, another begins
You'll have your losses, and also your wins
A life is of value that cannot be matched
Mistakes in your life, you can't possibly patch
So make a life worth it, do not waste your time
Enjoy while it lasts, I'm sure you'll be fine.