If these walls could show the story they have built over the years, mine would show this.

Kids playing, 

Mother beaten, 

Kids laughing,

Fighting,

Bike riding down the hill,

Kids locked in the room blasting music.

This home, it barely feels like a home.

Just a spiriting roaming these halls.

Watching the falls of everyone.

Weed,

Bloods, 

Rebal,

Trouble.

Vacant eyes and unforgivable lies.

Walls watching the kid come home after a mistake ofthe neighbor.

Every fiber of his skin scrubbed down.

Wanted to drown out the feelings.

Body went to numbness.

Met friends with that tenderness.

But I still have to go back to that house.

There is no feeling of home.