Bittersweet Therapy

You, the last person I spoke to before I went to sleep,

the first thing I thought about when I woke up.

You, the person I wanted to share all of my news with,

my shelter, my consoler my trusted council.

But, You, tore pieces from me, and left, and I remained...

a tattered mess, a sightless sight of unrest.

a pile of cotton, a mangled toy, you left...

but you insisted you hadn't.

and in the end I suppose I left,

I suppose I ripped out my own useless appendix,

shredded it for bedding and span my wheel.

The truth is, I think you know the truth,

that an omission is a lie,

so you said goodbye.