Las manos del pecado.

Reads 7
Votes 0
Parts 3
Time 6m

Reads 7
Votes 0
Parts 3
Time 6m

Pude sentirlas como rosaban sus manos viejas, arrugadas, ásperas, peludas, sobre mi pecho.
Hasta el día de hoy me pregunto cómo dejé que lo hiciera, cómo pude dejar que me destruya por dentro, sabiendo que esa destrucción de mi alma, de mi ser, no la recuperaría jamás, ni al pasar los años se curaría, ni al pasar mi vida entera. Yo viviría con ello, con ese recuerdo, con ese odio, con el alma destrozada...All Rights Reserved

abuso historiadevida tristeza

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