Like Octave, I loved the poem, but feel the compulsion to fix the flow. (It could be truly amazing!!!) Forgive me...:p
I'm going to post a few of your stanza's again with subtle alterations, I will try not to change the meaning more than absolutely nessisary:
Where did the sun go that fell upon the trees?
Where is the family that prayed on bended knees?
Where is the home, to love, and live again?
Where did it go? Was it all pretend?
I am the eye of all the stoms
I am alone, I am forlorn
I am the last of the harmony!
Where did it go? Why can't I see,
All I wanted to believe?
Where did it go? Where did it go?
What is the question and why don't I know?
That I think is all it needs! I hope I didn't mess with your meanings overmuch!
Discipline is remembering what you want.