I'm not your prodigal son;
I'm your abandoned daughter.
Don't wait around for me to return.
I won't.

I gave and gave because I was a child
Hoping for love I received conditionally.
When I stopped giving, you left.
That says more about you than me.

You worship a God in your image.
One who asks for all.
You say he loves unconditionally,
But that's what you said about you.

You worship an abuser,
And in his name you abuse.
You pray for repentance
But are unwilling to change yourself.

I know you miss me.
You want me back so I can give,
And a part of you really does care.
Your actions matter more.

You could love me again
If you wanted.
I haven't hidden myself from you.
I'm still here.

You can't expect me to come
Crawling back to you.
The fattened calf you'd offer only
If I approached on your terms.

That's not the forgiving father.
That's a parent still grasping
For control of their child.
I don't need your food.

If you wanted to learn,
Maybe even consider
You could be wrong,
I might call you again.

You won't even use my name.
Like the neighbors of your savior,
You say, isn't this our son?
I'm unwelcome in your home.

So I've finally done it.
I did what I knew I had to.
I shook the dust from my sandals,
And I left.

The world is a dark and complicated morass,
Wherein countless lost children pass
In and out of the shadows and greet each other with a smile or a nod.

Isolated, lonely little hearts playing
With complex emotions in a word staying
Abreast of all the troubling events for better or worse.

Light and laughter dwells but a moment
In tender unions just before fears foment
A cascade of ****** worries filling up the eternal halls.

Then a single flame at first finds another
Huddling in the dark over scraps Mother
Left for kindling a fire in the depths of destitution.

At first the two but soon three and more
Shelter the faltering fire taking hold for
Reviving communion among the distanced souls.

As more join a bonfire starts and talking
Not just of pleasantries you hear while walking,
But of sincere connection between scared children discovering they can conquer the dark.

Some children still pass in the dark hall,
Knowing not the darkness nor how small
They really are in the scope of the full extent of the world.

But every once in a while, more often as it grows,
A child stops and really sees what the others chose
In banding about a fire fueled by the scraps of a difficult time.

It's funny how focusing on me
Makes all else fall in place.
When others' needs are all I see,
I lose myself in that space.

Why do I exist?
Why do I care?
Why do I love?
Why can't I stop?
Why can't I *****?
Why can't I scream?
Why am I soft?
Why am I odd?
Why am I here?

Why does everyone love me, when they can't stay?
Why won't I just go away?

The land that nursed me will not restore me.
The land that reared me would break me down.
Where I came of age would jail and ****** me.
The land that trained me would deny me care.

I'm cut off from my past, from every home:
Denied entry to memory and forced to tears.
I was raised to wander and driven to roam.
I can't return, I can't relive, I cannot dream.

When the smear of filth spreads across the wall,
Dragged by yet another bilious hand,
I wish that they would in an instant fall,
Dropping dead in the very spot they stand.

I feel no guilt though I am not a violent soul.
I mourn the casualties of their callous hate.
Longing only to end the crushing toll,
I curse their lives and hope bloodthirsty history to sate.

Shimmering, calm at the surface.
A gentle ripple emanating outward.
The taste clear and quenching.

Clouded, disturbed within.
A single drop of lye enters.
The bitter sharp and revolting.

The delicious overrun by an acrid moment.