MASOCHISM.

The Blame.

The fault lies on the weakest,
regardless of whether there is an embedded reason,
Don't even try to find the easy way
because that will take you from zero to nothing.

His name is surrounded by qualifying adjectives,
Virgo thought he was my own father without becoming one,
I was walking aimlessly through a paper house, full of offensive doodles,
dragging the weight of his ego, without moving it.

Surrounded by narcissists who love every part of me,
they destroy them and set them on fire
remembering my mistakes in a destructive and sincere way,
carrying a load of consciousness that I assumed by default.

Younger, with the head still in process,
assimilated each rebuke as real and precise,
without showing me an argument, imprisoned for a sin of which I was already a prisoner,
rebellion that over the years taught me that it was not true.

When the coming of age came to teach me the price of freedom,
to carry my past and mediate it with my psyche,
knowing that they were only opinions, nobody tells an authentic truth.
Finding my own path without anyone telling me.

I learned then the true charge of guilt,
because consciousness does not calm down overnight,
We are born virgins of sin and die plagued with them,
misunderstood infidelity that is not fixed with an apology,
The words of my grandfather from Santana.

I never trusted the playboys, merchants of his body,
unhappy and unstable, just out of hell,
bearers of the horns, have fun making you their slave,
because when the devil gets bored he kills flies with his tail.

And maybe that's why my countenance turned icy,
Great was the weight he carried on top of the spine,
Pressure on the lower back, I fell without force in an instant.

And I never blamed him for leaving me
I saw him fuck me and I let it be
So I won't blame you for abandoning me
But when you come back, don't accuse me of guilt. 

I don't blame you for leaving, you saw how fucked up I was and you gave up, so no, I don't blame you, I blame myself.