Scusami

Haunted by remorse,
in the raging of destiny.
And the anger grows.
Unexpected wounds mark silence
Violence and steam.
Nobody wants to talk.
Ignorance.

The inhumanity of life leads to being dry
Not to know humility
Not to recognize the faults
To wither
To numb the pain.

But only that pain experienced and full of signs,
heals and sculpts the memory,
only the scratches caused by the anguish of how to ask for forgiveness
shape choice.
And cry with a courage that moves the colors of change,
giving painful flowers
and breath on the petals.

I'm sorry.