Flashback pt.2

I look around at my childhood home, what remains; the house that is aging. the crooked walls standing tall in despite of it all, every corner reminds me of the untold history; the stolen nighttime hours, the hospital runs, the emergency lights, the ice cold floor, the resting of tired head on my brother's back, the waiting between flickering nerves, bitten lips and cracked nails, the reciting, the recording of Surat Yasin, with an insomniac heart kept & held clinging at my fathers hand. the children all grew up before dawn, look around, look around at the ruins of people. the aftertaste of sadness in the air breathed; the salt of tears. in the rooms that no longer contain it's people. my people; distorted and isolated. missing the one supply of relief: faith. look around at the memories ripping their sanity. look around at what's left of them. the house is dying. my home is dying. look around.