The Bullet Called Words

Oh it burns, this hellish wound

Your words pierce deep into my soul

Bullet holes made by your sound

To wreck me, was that your goal?

*

Well accomplished, I hope you’re pleased

You’re the victor and have seized this day

As these holes fester and rot leaving me diseased

So I bid thee adieu, to bed I shall lay

*

But mark my words, vengeance shall be mine!

Keep them peepers peeled for your end is nigh

Perhaps some poison while you dine

And eternally in a grave shall you lie

*

For heaven’s sake child, tis only dishes you utter fool

Get your ass back here, stop being such a tool!