They Come, They Do, They Stay

People;
They come, they do, they stay,
I conclude to my dismay.
See, these wondrous voids inside suggest
That they never really go;
Rather just get put to rest
In the shallows or depths
Of a delicate memory.
And be it a second
Or a century,
Those not quite tucked in
Will finally pronounce you
Fucked in.
So I beg myself
To save myself
From a beautiful wealth
Of cracked up, cut up patches,
As inside I search for matches
To defeat or at least draw with one
Who came, did and stayed
After departing with my childhood sun.