Las lágrimas corrían por sus mejillas, él lloraba, pero no era ningún indicio de debilidad. Esos cristalitos de corazón eran de pura valentía. Había recibido múltiples golpes y aún así andaba cara a cara con esta vida injusta.
Durante años su rostro reflejaba sufrimiento. Él andaba en guerra con la vida, cavándose su propia tumba, cada día un infierno, alejándose de la luz y acercándose con gigantescos pasos a la oscuridad.
Odiaba estar vivo, pero era consciente de que un suicidio no era la solución a sus problemas, él no había nacido cobarde.
Decidió que el tiempo curaría sus heridas, las manchas oscuras en su corazón desapareciesen.
Hizo un pacto consigo mismo, cada vez que su mente le asustara, sabía que podría desahogarse con sus cristalitos de corazón.
Lágrimas corriendo por sus mejillas, un desahogo mental, una liberación.
Era prisionero de su pobre ser interior, hasta que un día escapó de su falsa dependencia, el dolor.
El tiempo corre.
Tears were running on his cheeks, he was crying, but it was not any weakness indication. These little heart crystals were of pure bravery. He had received multiple blows and nevertheless he was walking face to face with this unjust life.
For years his face was reflecting suffering. He was walking in war with life, digging his own tomb, every day a hell, moving away from the light and approaching with gigantic steps to the darkness.
He hated to be alive, but he was conscioused that a suicide was not the solution to his problems, he had not been born as a coward.
He decided that time would cure his wounds, the dark spots in his heart would disappear.
He did an agreement with hisself, whenever he was scaring by his mind, he knew that he might let off steam with his little heart crystals.
Tears running on his cheeks, a mental relief, a liberation.
He was a prisoner of his poor interior being, until one day he escaped of his false dependence, the pain.
Time runs.
by So Sunny
Durante años su rostro reflejaba sufrimiento. Él andaba en guerra con la vida, cavándose su propia tumba, cada día un infierno, alejándose de la luz y acercándose con gigantescos pasos a la oscuridad.
Odiaba estar vivo, pero era consciente de que un suicidio no era la solución a sus problemas, él no había nacido cobarde.
Decidió que el tiempo curaría sus heridas, las manchas oscuras en su corazón desapareciesen.
Hizo un pacto consigo mismo, cada vez que su mente le asustara, sabía que podría desahogarse con sus cristalitos de corazón.
Lágrimas corriendo por sus mejillas, un desahogo mental, una liberación.
Era prisionero de su pobre ser interior, hasta que un día escapó de su falsa dependencia, el dolor.
El tiempo corre.
Tears were running on his cheeks, he was crying, but it was not any weakness indication. These little heart crystals were of pure bravery. He had received multiple blows and nevertheless he was walking face to face with this unjust life.
For years his face was reflecting suffering. He was walking in war with life, digging his own tomb, every day a hell, moving away from the light and approaching with gigantic steps to the darkness.
He hated to be alive, but he was conscioused that a suicide was not the solution to his problems, he had not been born as a coward.
He decided that time would cure his wounds, the dark spots in his heart would disappear.
He did an agreement with hisself, whenever he was scaring by his mind, he knew that he might let off steam with his little heart crystals.
Tears running on his cheeks, a mental relief, a liberation.
He was a prisoner of his poor interior being, until one day he escaped of his false dependence, the pain.
Time runs.
by So Sunny
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