Bullets for words ((and frustration for a pen))

I write these bullets out for you;
frustration is my gun
laced with penned out words and time.
Always looking back.

And you keep on biting into my skin,
'til I miss the bleeding sensation.
You keep on digging under my skin,
dripping out the poison of frustration.

Don't you see these insecurities?
They're written on my face for you to see.
Don't you see these tragedies
that you've twisted into bitter lies?

And you keep burning under my skin,
branding me with this anger.
You keep swimming through my veins,
well darling, you're becoming a stranger.

**whoot..this is what happens when I listen to scream music**