The Lack of Love — About parents and children
I stop for a second and I think over the infinite love I feel. This love has already been so beautiful, with flowered and smelly gardens and with sunny days. Today I barely see this garden, everyday is dark and cold.
I wonder where all that beauty gone? Then I realize that I planted grass of dreams, Flowers of of love and trees of hope in an infertile soil.
Our qualities are not always recognized. Our options are not always accepted. And our attitude and efforts are not always comprehend.
That is why I throw out the towel, I stand up a white flag, I leave the scene. And I take on all the consequences of this attitude. I have plenty consciousness that I will ever miss you and I know that more tears will come because love that born with us never learns how to say goodbye. This love will remain here and alive. Quiet and asleep, though. Occuping its usual space.
At an expensive cost, with a bitter on my throat and pain in my chest I come to a conclusion:
It is better the pain of a speecheless feeling, than a suffering of an open wound, that bleeds with every word you say to me.
Love you.