The person who is writing lives in a time where migrants have got this infamous role.
Yes, I know, now you're going to be angry and you're right.
It’s not the destiny neither the role to be bad, but those who dare making in your behalf.
They impose on you their plagued and cruel delusions as if it were unquestionable truth from the sky.
Nevertheless, everybody knows that the latter gives just rain and snow, even lightning, miraculously comets and falling stars.
On the contrary, the burning dullness of the heart, which inflicts pain by hitting many times on the same wound, it always comes from your own kind.
My friend on the horizon, I have no idea what your name is.
Maybe you have blue skin, three eyes or flames in place of your hair, I have no idea what your diversity will be, in the eyes of others. So, I don't know your features, the depths of your being, and especially the reasons that will push your contemporaries to use you as the scapegoat of every evil in the world.
Read more
No comments:
Post a Comment