Prodigal

Once, when I was more naive, I would've opened my arms and embraced you

I would've put sandals on your feet, and a ring on your finger, and slaughtered the fattened calf in your honor

Now, I am bitter

Upset and mean

Frail in spirit and in care

I'm hateful, and sad, and fucked

Now my fists bludgeon your flesh, as well as mine, leaving bruises shaped like old memories, that cry for me to remember times when everything made sense, and life still seemed energetic and full of hope

in response, I only yell louder and longer, releasing the nectar of my worthlessness

Leaving your heart, as well as mine, caved in like a hammer's strike

We could've been like prodigal sons, the two of us

Redemption and merriment so close and so sweet, like spring water

Like the feeling you get when you know someone somewhere out there in the world misses you

And loves you

And longs for you

Now we're just Shepards without sheep

And no one has use for those