At Last

I pined for the top, 

The utopic top of the hill,

To stop the time, I said I will.

 

To save us, I knew I could

But should I go when its so cold

And you stay still and hope for gold?

 

At the peak, I hoped for two

The warmth was myth, the cold was true

Now I see I just don't need you.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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