I am the prodigal daughter that
will not be returning. I have squandered
your forgiveness, if ever
it was, on small sins

that I probably
could have avoided. Tiny ways
Of asserting my individuality, my
independence, my unwillingness to follow
anyone blindly. The food

I eat, the friends
I have, the actions
I take, the people
I love, they
are not as to your
specifications. I am the prodigal

daughter, the one
that stopped believing in your
(supposedly) everlasting love, your
(apparent) watching eye and protection. I

am the prodigal daughter, I
have given up on trying
for your acceptance, trying
to hurt myself to earn
the warmth and love I never
saw. For so long you
made me feel unworthy

of you, ineligible
for your embrace, and now
I finally know that I
truly do not deserve
the iron bars
of your acceptance, disguised
as a structure to hold
me up. I now know

I deserve more.