Once I wanted to reach the bottom and find
ecstasy,
I intended a tour through the dawns,
to tear the silence of my provocative sleep.
I wanted to enjoy an imported wine
and stroll around the square with someone,
I wished for the metamorphosis that never happened.
Today the hurtful words come to the mirror,
the false pronouncements of a hypocritical love,
on my back, I feel a little girl who cries
for the humiliations of her brothers
and gestures of a father who prefers them.
That is not my case. What we do share is sadness,
the hours of loneliness.
Maybe my father is guilty of not preferring
any
of his children. For humiliating me so many times,
for not being interested in my undeveloped wings
about to face a flight.
YOU ARE READING
When I close my door
PoetryI dedicate this work to all the friends who are left in the heart. To all those who love me. In When I close my door, a social interest and a renunciation for the sake of communication is explicit, the subject destroys his exterior, recomposes himse...
