There Is Only So Much I Can Take.

Your departure and your arrival: both stung like a bitch.
Sewn fragments undone, that I took time to stitch.
Needles prickle down my back when I hear the news.
However I wonder am I just rags to cut up and reuse.
It's good, but bad and frustrating all the same.
I can't help but ask, am I to blame?
Heartstrings unpicked, now a tangled mess.
A failed worthless project, an insult to bless.

She just fucks with my mind, hurts my soul, leaves me to die, and now... She's back... And is asking for my sanity.