Runaway To Our Angels

Runaway to our angels Dearest Mama, I'm not going to lie to you. My captors plan on killing me. Right now, I am under the duress of blindfolds. With paper and pen I find in this cell between these four walls of hell, I write my last words. I love you mama. Please Promise me you will remarry again, and replant your garden. Mama I kneel at the altar and write this poem to you. I pray for us. Love you always, PP Rosey daughter so filled with laughter under the guise of pain that turned to blood now at the hour of her death, till we meet again mama in the afterlife where angels welcome us separately and take the thorns away from the past and repose the blossom's yellow bud to flower like it's never had before. Paris Pachecho connie pachecho 1/1/17