The suffering that made me my father

And There I was with my mother

with the stumbled soul

and already fallen as hard wood and perforated

The suffering made me my father in life

so fierce the anger of my being to have hope to continue living

even when in rain Always there

Symbolized this rain of tears my father never knew

what his son drowned Until tiredness to see rain his pride and neglect

without dropping a look of comprehension

so many that his son threw

When I wanted to mourn I could not help it

I was not allowed

And it was a privilege that

by many hills of suffering that I crossed

My soul that one so warrior so conformist

immaculate of heart and although always alone

but always ahead and always with love.

-Jonatan Vega

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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