In my head, through my brain like a knife.
Every conversation . Every word they ever said.
Our history. Like a book that never ends.
Over and over, the words go through my head.
“Our history.” I tell myself, as I lay down my weary head.
I don’t sleep though.
Who could with what runs through my mind?
Everybody says it’s normal, what I’m going through.
It’s normal to feel like this after what they did to you.
I wish it hadn’t happened.
I wish our history could have continued.
But alas, that steely bullet went through you’re head.
And now as I relive our history, I wish I was dead.