Fuente

I already knew that it was like that,
how difficult it is to feel and be alive;
that there is nothing that makes us fall,
that things only happen by casuality.

There are no sweet moments that tell me I was happy,
sad memories inhabit me,
they are like ghosts coming out in the dark,
and they remind me that I'm just a simple loser.

Things come, things are going,
but there is always something to think about;
places that we pass and that make us remember,
that we are human and our instinct is to sin.

I always wanted to be there, at the right time,
I wanted to have the guts to say things,
of not keeping them inside me,
of not having to hide them in my head.

Words of things that we feel and believe;
of moments we spent trying to achieve something;
of things that we live and later we regret;
of what I feel for you and I'm afraid to express.

I was never the simple charlatan we all know,
I had dignity to say and do things;
I came to achieve the unexpected for a person like me;
Until what I feared most happened.

I usually have nightmares, of those moments that we live;
moments when my imagination flew wanting to be with you;
but I woke up; The reality, nothing more somber but at the same time so beautiful;
confused and distant but also hollow.

Empty that fill this bitter and treacherous heart,
but that judges me like any sinner,
that there is nothing as important as living,
and really be happy.

My life is so even and uneven,
with ups and downs that break any scale,
but never try to improve,
do not; I never could do it.

I sharpen my senses trying to find that being that wants to be by my side,
searching and searching, but it is not, it does not appear!
My heart fills with misery
although of hope when it goes crazy.

I do not want to write a poem or anything,
I just want to try to get something that has always been there,
and that mocks when I fall,
and that always makes me stumble.

Fuente

Life, full of roses I have learned to control,
spreading my happiness,
removing dignity from my heart,
and accepting this loneliness.

There are no feelings to control,
there are no thoughts to discuss,
there is no one to love;
but where am I? Is not this my imagination?

Never come to see above your being,
I was less distant than your breathing, and you did not see me,
there was no place for me in your heart.

The important thing is that everything is over,
good for you, bad for me;
but that matters, that you be happy and all that.
That I will never be there again,
and that you will never live in me again.

There are no pleasant moments like the one when you said goodbye to me,
madness invaded my being, I felt truly guilty without doing anything;
all I did was love you, but that was a big mistake.
Grateful I am for those moments that you gave me,
moments that will not return, and that I will not look for either.

The light has begun to be reborn again,
vain words plow in my interior again,
words that wait to be heard by that special being,
but again, my terrible condition.

About you I will write a thousand and one verses,
I will describe you with the most poetic forms,
I will make you a new muse,
but because of my fear you will never know.

Cowardly I backed up,
trying to hide what he could not,
looking for an excuse to not see your eyes,
eyes that I dream to look at every night.

Times that run like a sudden awakening,
that they will never come back, that they left without saying goodbye;
what we try to imitate but never come back.

There are only memories such as ashes,
that after a terrible storm,
after a terrible fire,
they walk around with no choice but to see them disappear.

Ungrateful and vain words occur to me when thinking of those moments,
so far from me that I can not see them,
but that is always there.

I still remember those moments when as a child,
for everything he did, everything was bad;
that they never gave me the security to do everything right.

Errors we make that are poorly paid.
I used to jump and run with fear of being discovered,
that my only friend was the punishment,
it was always there, ready to accompany me,
so empty and so somber but at the same time warm and pleasant.

That my only wish was to be a normal boy,
but that only had samples of a true childhood.
What matters, and at every step,
I grew up with fear, and I lived in fear,
but who has not made mistakes?
I have committed them and many,
some so big that I do not even want to mention;
but they always remind me of my terrible condition.

Forgiveness comes with works,
repentance is not something that is only said,
It is something that is demonstrated.

You have shown it, and therefore more than sorry,
is me who asks for forgiveness from you.
Sorry to come when you did not expect me,
sorry for not helping you in those moments of anguish,
sorry for making you cry in countless times,
sorry for not assessing you when I should have done it.

I just want to live and be able to say that everything has been done well,
to say that I have not made any mistakes today
(Many commit at every moment),
look at you and tell you that I love you,
know that you feel the same;
fight for just things,
and do not trip and then fall again.

Life has its starts,
its follies, its bad and good things,
but we have to learn to live with them,
because that way we will prove to be better people every day.

There are no special moments like feeling accompanied,
company that comes in many and very diverse ways,
grateful I am for it my friends,
that they have always been there,
willing to help me,
and more grateful to my mother,
because it is you who has led me firmly on this path.

I know that when I write these words, I shed some tears,
and I'll spill some more when I read it again,
but I'm sorry;
I did it like that,
so I wrote it,
that's how it was,
that's how it is
and I will not change it.