As I walked through my old room,
I stopped and swept
my finger across the dust;

My room and I,
we were both empty,
no one tended to us.
Every vacuous corner
a reminder of
that which had been lost.

My mother, she held me
but it wasn't close enough.
She could never again,
I was too big,
and she knew
all my sins.

My father with fist up
fighting shadows
to attempt to protect me from that
which we both knew
he could not.

Last time I was here
I slept with lights on.