I've painted all these walls back to the way that they used to be.
Those renovations always meant more to you than they ever did to me.
I've chased your demons with soft whispers and ushered them up to the door,
but they only ever return with more resolve than they have ever had before.
We all need a black sheep in our grey families,
someone to look down on and say, "I'm glad that isn't me."
But I don't think in those terms anymore, or lean back on history.
After seven years the only thing that's different is that now this is nothing new.
They're paving over our favorite stretch of gravel road and leaving us this empty parking lot.