Prodigal Daughter

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A cold morning soon gone,
Another path she won’t belong.
Everything she’s said and done,
Remembered by another one.
It’s too heavy. She can’t carry this alone.
When in truth she isn’t, they wait for her at home.
But the lie that she’s conceived,
Would say none would be pleased.
In truth again: they would forgive.
They just hate to see her gone,
And in darkness live.
Waiting for her every day with open arms,
Hoping she’ll return to them, safe from harm.

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