I see my life as a collage
carefully placed memories stitched-
one by one

From the bible-
and the satanic handbook
written from neighbors below
i use a fingernail
and carve a fairy tale

Of a life once listened
in darkened youthful lounges,
where mother was a narrater-
least she be the villain

And father’s voice held the devil’s tone,
which suited him just fine
My collage made of skin and bone,
does speak a rightful line

Of sin’s I know,
The one’s I saw myself-
read and heard
and dutifully observed

I see my life as a collage
memories by a red hand
one by one
The mother of god hung
by light of the devil’s son

And my tale feel’s done.