Demons and angels rest on my cross,
My soul dragged through the dirt of my mistakes,
My vulnerability paraded to the so called saints,
Hypocrites hiding behind the masks of written words,
To which they proclaim as ultimate guide of their holiness.
I have slaughtered myself over and again,
On the altars of their empty minds,
Offered my flesh as the ultimate sacrifice,
I have laid my body in their beds made of worthless papers.
I forgot my name,
I forgot my identity,
When I lend my ears to their worthless opinions,
I bathed naked deep into the mud pools of their ignorance,
I basked in the burning sun of their rejection,
Until I learned laughter makes slaughter truly complete.