do not know who is that that the only soul in pain.
Yesterday, when I ripped the body of my husband and watched him for a long time smoking a cigarette.
A week ago, the day that my mother held her while slitting his throat. Laughed when she cried. That night, watching TV, continued laughing.
A month ago, the afternoon in which smashed my father's head with a hammer and rolled on the ground, amid blood and brains.
Who is she, she crept on tiptoe to the crib of her son, looked tenderly and then slammed into the bars again and again?
This, hidden by the dark recesses of insanity, whispering strange words in his head begging for one more death, demanding a sacrifice to quench their thirst for blood. This, the biting their guts and laughs out loud like crazy when you go out into the street and includes a rotten society.
Where evil dwells, there she goes. Where smells rotten, she runs toward it. Like a wolf howling at the full moon, blood rolling down her cheeks, crying at night know that only litanies of horror.
Who can it be that you want to get rid of me because I'm no good? My soul is confused and horrified wonder if it will go in search of another victim who mortify.
The dominating my mind, that makes me pray through his teeth as guides me in the mirror to show me that I'm just a puppet. With these scissors in their hands, with that face of cruelty that shows me the glass.
There she goes, it raises its arm that leads to my face. My eyes wide, my lips forming an exclamation. In the moment that sticks scissors into my eyes and I approach acknowledge the dark. At that time I understand that I am.
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