¿What do I have left? ...
being able to make verses
Through a mask
Dress in a silhouette
transplanted
For an immaculate smile.

And laugh while I don't enjoy,
enjoy without feeling anything
ask my own body
Where he left my wings
I only have to look at you again
and tell you that everything can be done,
even if I know myself,
that all bright light
Soon he dies.

Life goes slow
looking from our eyes,
but quickly
By acting from our hands.
And in that constant process,
we can be the magicians
able to create the illusion,
able to change destiny

Evil is present,
It is the easiest fruit to taste
and without even knowing it
the palate adds to us,
We are not born because we want
but to fight humanity.

We talk more about what we do,
we do things
What we promised not to do
and we promise not to fall for the same game,
and the game again
start from scratch

We hurt without wanting,
without knowing that the words
They are the sharpest daggers,
Guillotines to our being.

And we end up dirty
of such hypocrisy,
of so much enmity,
of such arrogant pride,
ashes of our own fire,
consumed by our fears.