Columbine

no sentimental favorites
   no assigned seat or “felt need”
no inclusionary experience
   just isolation in rows and circles
of black shirts and black feelings
   and black ink on paper doodles or arms
backs that display despair or frustration
   holes that eat at the soul – filled with metal rings –
filled with gun shot.

no quiet sanctuary 
   no enlightened words or stimulating ideas to ponder
no lasting memories
   just calculation of hate or indifference
with white fear and white rage
   and white heat from cold hearts or guns
minds that distort value and merit
   agony that bleeds with no end – devoid of soul
devoid of meaning