Where do I go from here?

Fallen flat before those omens of ever-increasing accusers,

I pick up my pain, so I do not contaminate you.

You, my other part that awaits your drop from the chalice.

Because Man has, again, signed a pact with the cataclysm.

And guests are always mine at the parties.

My child,

Today, I am a planted being visited by crickets.

My heart is the lodge of a permanent cycle of absences.

Today I keep company to my shadows.

When the night comes in, nightmares become realities.

Full of shedding tears, my life.

My smile has faded since my first reality.

Announcing the wedding with the hurting souvenirs.

Thus, the bruises flowers distribute the requiem masses to the guests.

Here are the screams of my tears.

Why play with my wound.

This open wound of the butting sticks.

These blows butting inside my mind, my heart…

Why is always my vineyard the one to be violated?

Today, imagining you holding this stick cursing the past.

Rehashing this chained life.

Powerless to give a handoff your trap.

To the dance of the sun, my heart bleeds.

Oh! Not you, I implore you.

"Life is what you put in your mind; garbage or gold mine. The choice is yours."-George Socifargo. 

Matthew 11:28 Come to me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.

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