Me han dicho que todo estaría bien. “Disfruta los momentos”.
“Live Laugh Love” is nothing but a pretty lie, just a hollow script.
To hide the fact that we are all broken, and that this foundation has slipped.
I hate that we use ‘’These’’ masks to accept who we ‘’are’’, trapped in this world
Of comfort while we count every single scar. But I’d rather value the ugly truth than live inside a fake one. I’d rather feel the friction and the heavy, honest ache. Sometimes, I think the rain falls just to feel our skin, to bring a sense of life to this void we are living in.
To be human is to suffer, to fracture in miles de pedazos. Then to relinquish the pain and redeem our heavy hearts. I walk through these halls and the air feels dense like it’s dead, fake, like the dead leaves dragging off the rake inside my own head. I’m lost, I’m confused, feeling like going insane, with a male-dominated ego and a woman’s soul in pain. I can break like a female, but I act like a make and hide this debris, Just a Niño Grande, drawing in the cold masculine sea. I know it feels weird, I feel like a creep, because being yourself makes you “weird”, staring into my deep eyes where the reflection has disappeared.
Pero mira, yo tengo a mi Virgencita, en una cadena de oro.
My phantom mother, guarding these secrets I haven’t mustered the courage to tell.
She is my innocence, showing up randomly in the dark, my spiritual anchor, like a quiet golden spark. My hair is brown like hers, a crown made of earth and roots, the blood of an immigrant flowing through my shoes. My blood is red as the rose I hold in my hand, my heart pulsing like a sacrifice for a life I didn’t plan. The green of her mantle is the hope I wish I can retrieve, the color of evolution is that of what a broken man achieves.
Pero, I wasn’t taught to care, Y solamente learned to share. Carrying this baggage, knowing that the world is unfair. “Happiness or flashiness, How do you serve the question?”
When “Promises are broken and more resentment come alive, Race barriers make inferior of you and I”.
I hate being brown, they say “be proud, be loud”, but these cold stares make me feel like a shadow in a crowd. Yet, who would I be without my mistakes? Who would I love without these fractures and the breaks? Mistakes make us great: they prove that we are functional and real. That’s the only way a “macho” Heart can ever learn how to feel.
Muchos se preguntan por qué soy rebelde?
Soy rebelde porque el mundo me ha hecho así.
Because the love I needed was always denied to me.
A big part of who I was, is not who I am anymore.
I could stand in the hallway and open a different door. I used to want to disappear, vanish without view. But the truth is, I wanted to be found, by someone as true as myself. They say the number one thing we people crave is to be authentic. I dont give a fuck anymore. To drop the “pretty lies” and the poses that are just frantic. I am a Hispanic American, brown to the touch, a Philosopher who finally cares and dares himself. I keep the gold on a chain, de oro, cerca de mi corazon, cerca de mi alma, unbowed in the rain, waiting for the break of dawn. Didn’t realize that the point of life is just the route that you’ve made, Una Rosa de Evolucion, no longer afraid of his own mistakes.
