Coming now to journey's end,
I feel like I've done back-forth laps,
Sprinted till my hands and feet are golden paws,
I'm panting now just gone the line,
At last complete: now to ball up and snore.

Blood poisoned,
And a chained brain,
And mind predicted: broken,
Little hope for a little boy,
Who's blood didn't quite match up...
For a happy dispatch to the land of the breathing,
Then the mind-mender stepped in,
And He's been mending my mind every since,
Till I'm like His son,
So I continue to think,
And glorify this mind-mender of mine,
With thoughts maths and rhymes.