This house was quiet, creek of the wood echoes. Now i see nothing but a house i do not know. I see faces so familiar, but i keep telling myself i dont. Tears from nothing, anger from nothing. If the house collapsed, would i be buried with it? A house i was so used to, is now a mere destination i visit. I sleep, and eat here, but that is all. Stress is taking over my mother and father. Doing everything they can to keep this house theirs. I cannot move, everywhere i go, i see a different face. No attempt being made to aide the helpless. Selfish, spending money on things that can only satisfy your cravings. How do you help someone, if all their life they barely made it. Do you push them til they break, yet everything isnt as good when its broken. When the leaves fall, they stay there. The winter comes, the winter leaves, the spring is coming. No sign of attempt. No sign of hope. A helpless soul just living off the help of the kind hearted. I dont know this house anymore.