When I Die

I pray
I pray to be killed
By your gun.
I’m tired of being killed
By your words.
I’m tired of seeing your mouth open
Eyes raging
Veins bulging
And my heart knowing
My heart knowing
That death is near.
I feel my blood pumping
Everywhere.
I see your anger pumping
Everywhere
And I see my death
Coming near.
It’s a different kind of death,
Murdered by words.
I don’t get a funeral
A memorial service
A ceremony in memory of.
Most of the time
It’s not recognized at all.
I continue my mechanics
Pretend I am not a walking corpse
I pretend
That a ghost has not possessed my body.
I pretend
That I am not dead.
And I am a very good pretender
Because no one ever notices
When I die.