Would Anyone thought that this was once called a house.

My home.
I missed it a lot, so I drop by. Too much memories of a family. A family that once were respected by whole, for the struggle they had gone through to survive.

Now, looking at whats left of this old, ruined shack, I ponder, where did it go wrong?
Where is that respect that my ancestors deserves?
Why is no1 doing nothing to protect this shack?
This shack should had been the only proof that my late grandparents were once rich with love and happiness.
I couldn't stop my tears falling, as I turn around to the bus stop. It hurts to leave it like this.

Wrecked.

Just as what the villagers did to the memories of my grandparents honor.
Abandoned,
uncared,

and perhaps,

forgotten.

Now... All is gone... The house has perish in smoke. The mosque is the only thing standing between the bushes and woods...