Memories of a Bastard Son

Flashes of a field behind a red house
Spiders live in its brittle walls
The neighbors barn is filled with hay
It doesn't matter there if you fall

Our house encloses turmoil and hate
Strife occurs within those walls
I'm immune because of my age
As I watch those within crumble/fall

It began there, in a youthful state
My innocent stance kept me whole
The product of a faithless day
And a selfish deed that started it all

The hay next door - my hidden stage
A place to hide when darkness called
The field behind the blood red house
A place to run and leave it all

The spiders saw me, but did not bite
Too small a meal to fill their jaws
They lurked in crevasses just out of sight
Watching/Waiting/for them all

The house is gone now and its too late
Its bloody past turns into lore
The creeping things that were in that place
Made it so there was nothing more