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I ran away

the day after

my 16th birthday.



I hear the screen door

slam shut over and over

in my mind every day.



I don’t know why I left;

I just know I can’t go back.



I can’t set foot

on the premises anymore.

I know I’m not welcomed.



The signs with the

same blood-stained words

are spread throughout

the front yard



stating: “Prodigal child,

you are not allowed here.”