Things are falling apart again-
I've gotten used to seeing it happen.
I can tell when the silence is irritable;
I can tell when the communication is troubled;
I can see behind those glassed eyes and their crying seas of frustration.

I know what it means
When the air no longer breathes its familiar warmth,
when old comfort can't be found in its old places,
when the sighs grow louder and louder each day,
and when there comes a familiar wait for angry doors.

Things are falling apart again,
And there's nothing I can do.

The pieces are scattering now,
running away from pains they've known before;
patience is quickly flickering
as the light is cautious to fade out,
and I'll be gone soon as well,
which might be the necessary catalyst.

This poem is about: 
My family
My community


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