April

You push and push
Beat at my emotions
Tear at my thoughts
Poke and prod
Like some demented child
Taking sick pleasure
From this painful twisted game
You speak in riddles and lies
Until I just can't tell fact from fiction
Stood idly by as I fell apart
Never lending a hand
As I picked myself up
You were never there
When I needed a hand
You pushed me away
Tried to tear me apart
And laughed when I fell
I only have
One last thing to say
And that's
Goodbye