Holes - A Poem by J.A. McCormick

Let your knife rip and tear
Leaving the deepest wound
Fresh with blood.
Sweet weeping
Of my blood-soaked soul.
Those for whom I’ve given all…
Bear it a little longer
And a little longer still,
Bless the dear knife of my torturer.
Cut deep and quick and clean
And leave no pining there for me.
It is they and they alone now:
And the deep holes 
Within my heart,
That only they can fill.

​