Dead...

Your words sting as the touch me,
Burning deeper in my flesh,
Longing for the answers,
That will put my mind at rest,

I don’t know what you said to me,
That hurt me so much more,
Words once so tender, gentle,
But these are not like before,

Now there is this hatred,
That fills your words with scorn,
They circle round my head,
Like my crown of bloody thorns,

You always seem so angry,
And to me so full of hate,
I want to make things right again,
I know that soon it will be too late,

I remembered what you said to me,
“Maybe you should be dead!”
So as these words swirl around,
There’s a bullet through my head.