Prodigal

Running
running
without the inheritance
with all the love
rejecting
neglecting
wreaking havoc
on life
his hers theirs ours
without a care.
Relentless,
feelingless
unless you know him
and even when you do
sometimes you wonder.
But you have to hope.
You have to cling.
He's your heart.
You rip,
you pull,
you wrestle with right
wrong
feelings
but you can't scrape it off.
You can't undo the glue.
Forces press, suffocate
the care
into you.
Crazy,
emotional
out of control, they say.
Try living close to the eye
where calm becomes destruction
on him, you, them, us
in the blink of the eye,
and you don't know who to blame:
Prodigal? Or Satan?
Either way,
it kills.