My Sister Carries a Doll on Her Back

I used to have a home,

And a dear mom and dad.

One day, Dad got drunk,

Picked up an axe and walked toward Mom.

Dad, oh Dad, you swung it so many times,

Red blood stained the walls.

Mom's head rolled beneath the bed,

Her eyes were still looking at me.

Dad. Mom. Why? Why?

Then Dad asked me to help him.

We buried Mom beneath a tree.

Then Dad raised the axe,

Peeled off my skin and made me into a doll,

And buried me beneath the tree to keep Mom company.

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