Sending Out Then Coming Back Poem by Louis Payne

My poems; all of them look wrong on paper.
Badly fitted, they are at best
Home to oversized suits.

Not much better, squashed up and enveloped
Cry out 'unruly child' sounds
The calling bell of a failed parent.

Oh prodigal son.
You neatly packaged affair,
With your one precise letter, so final,

Speaks of words once married together,
Now return as bitter divorce
I felt when letting you go.

'With compliments dear sir. Regrettably....'
Cuts of my right hand.
The weight of my pen falling, I go under.