Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.144.193.1

Your Email Address:

To Email Address:

Subject

Personal Note:

Poem Title:

Poem

The Prodigal Son

Why do babies leave home at such a young age? Like premature hatchlings falling from the nest before their wings are even capable of flight, only to succumb to the wildness of nature. They become appetizers to those with a beating stone in the hollow of their chest, a heart that does not bleed. What causes those babes to take that leap of faith into the abyss of the unknown.to walk amongst the undead?
Does my picture read dark and morbid at times? It's only because the journey they travel is so. For most its a chosen departure. There are some who are pushed from the edge of the plank of familiar society. Those who are loved, hated, taken for granted, forgotten and forsaken. Nudged, pushed and even pulled from the comforts of their abode. Some, I'm sure, lost their edge due to the every day mundane lifestyle. None the less they left.
Some become lost into a world of trouble, chained to some addiction or another. Fated to a accident of overindulgence within the hollow of a bush some where near the edge of the populace. Some to lose their self worth, to become old chasing a soup line, to die a lonely death in a back alley frozen solid. Others to spend mortal eternity trapped in a cage counting the cinder blocks and pacing like a show animal, until their last super is served through a slot in a steal door.
Some gifted the mercy of the original prodigal son to return, two maybe three decades later to what some consider a normal life. To clip their wings and don their chains of the blue collar workforce. It is the later for me.
As to why I left home over two decades ago, I was alone in a house full of others no structure or real care. So I lunged from the nest and broke my wing. 
by Desi E.Sherman

CAPTCHA Preview

Type the characters you see in the picture

Required