🖤🖤🖤🕷️🕷️🕷️🖤🖤🖤 The halls are empty now, dust mice gather in the corners. Spiders play at hide-and-seek with shadows of forgotten dreams. The family has gone away; only empty walls remain. What once had been a single whole has splintered in the wind. 🖤🖤🖤🕷️🕷️🕷️🖤🖤🖤 The walls remember every sound they made: laughter, crying, whispered words, disputes— all sinking in the walls to stay. 🖤🖤🖤🕷️🕷️🕷️🖤🖤🖤 An old bed crumbles in the attic, a faded carpet curls in fear. The walls remember all her screaming, her agony, despair. A little girl, curled in the corner, flashbacks striking bolts of pain. A grandmother laughing coldly; her parents try to help in vain. 🖤🖤🖤🕷️🕷️🕷️🖤🖤🖤 The walls remember every sound they made: cries of pain and cries of anguish sank into the walls to stay. 🖤🖤🖤🕷️🕷️🕷️🖤🖤🖤 The last cupboard sags in the kitchen, weeds creep over the doormat. The walls remember every cutting word that left him far from home. He never loved to cross that doorway, he could not love this home. His silent screams echoed every day, and the walls remembered all. 🖤🖤🖤🕷️🕷️🕷️🖤🖤🖤 The walls remember every sound they made: the silence, heavier than stone, sank into the walls to stay. 🖤🖤🖤🕷️🕷️🕷️🖤🖤🖤 The girls were playing in the garden, but one was always crying out in pain. The other stood so still and silent— she knew her place, she knew what she must do. Their parents, tangled in old habits, tried to hold what could not stay. The walls remember every one of them, until all fell into dismay. 🖤🖤🖤🕷️🕷️🕷️🖤🖤🖤 The walls remember them— they simply can’t forget: laughter, crying, whispered words, disputes, all sinking in the walls to stay. 🖤🖤🖤🕷️🕷️🕷️🖤🖤🖤 The walls remember The walls remember
