Theater of pain

My something.

Your nothing.

Performing.

Responding.

You Were always right? "Right?"

That's why we always fight?

You could never be wrong,

was your favorite song.

You're pathetic, lethargic,

Undetermined, lacking logic.

We were arguing, fighting,

now paragraphs I'm scribing.

Guess I couldn't help but fight with you.

That's another day wasted on you.

I'm done with this rehearsal of shame.

Time to star in the Theater of Pain.

"Goodbye?" "Forever?" Piteous? "Never."

Numbers change, transformation severed.