Holes

Since I lost my mother I have lost a lot

My mind – though it got kicked out of me I didn’t really lose it

My family

My father

My work and career

My friends

My home as I am forced to live here instead

I have lost a lot

Like a careless man with holes in his pockets

Not even brass left

I must leave a trail of bodies

As I walk

Little dead bodies, falling through the worn fabric

Copyright B E Saunders 2016

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