Lewis Raynes Poet Quatrain

Politics: American Bullet Holes

Holes fill up every part of her soul, 
Holes complete her void,
They fill the gaps between her dreams, 
The gaps that once were joined,

And she has no idea of the love that once grew, 
Grew from inside her soul,
The warmth that had been every part of her life, 
Had become the emptiest cold,

Still, she walks in this yard alone every day, 
Not smelling the flowers of spring,
Walking blind to the feeling of life, 
The life she had been involved in,

And sits on a bench with no feeling, nothing, 
No feeling from her broken down heart,
Beside the graves of all of her kids, 
Her kids who’d been blown apart.

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