Poems from Haylee Poole-adams
When i die i will need to atone for my actions on earth
I fear that my judge will not be one of an angel or god
But rather my own demons...
The hand of my mother holds me yet
Short stubby fingers attached to a plump palm
Discolored from long years of illness
One hand supports...
little bottle
full of my
sweet
swing
juice.
sing me
flavorful
songs to
help me
sleep. at the
end of my tunnel of
sorrows I hear you...