The Bill, It Died Poem by Alyssa Miller
The Bill, It Died
The bill, it died
What to do when there is no water to rinse my cut
The bill, it died along with my blood cells
What to do when there is no heat to make my sickness heal
The bill, it died along with my white cells
What to do when there is no house to keep me alive
The bill, it died along with myself.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Topic(s) of this poem: house
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8/29/2026 5:03:57 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
