The Final Act Poem by M W

Your words is the gun so half hazardly placed by my head
Your words is the noose so quickly tied
Your words are the demons in my sleep
Your words are the acidic tears burning my cheek
Your words is the poison slipped into my drink
Your words are the sleeping pills pushed in my face

Your words are the ammunition to the gun
The hanging of the noose
The screams in my restless slumber
The 4th degree burns on my cheek
The slow, dark unconsciousness from my drink
The prolonged sleep

Your words can kill.
Don't push it.