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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.

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