The Pyre that Burns is a Grill for the Worms

You think you're the victim,.
Such a fantasy, please make a schism,.
Match by match,.
You found a way to detach,.
Drip by vapory drip,.
The gasoline that drops from your lip,.
As you speak your words for hire,.
Your volatile saliva splashes onto the pyre,.
Where you tied me down when three words were shared,.
This seems to be the only way to show you care,.
I plea to you, I question you why,.
Do you feel the necessity to let us die,.
You tell me to be patient as my soul burns,.
Preparing a feast out of me for the worms,.
Every excuse you can make,.
For me to bleed fire on the stake..,.,.,