Click here for original version: https://loscrittorevolante.com/2021/05/26/poesiasurrogato/

Sometimes, I was a surrogate.

Not myself, not my best,

lost into some gate,

Not my real heart in my chest,

now probably, too late.


for people to like me,

for some framerate.

But I know my mistake…

This is how I failed,

I didn’t believe in me, in any state.

If I did,

I wouldn’t ever hurt,

myself, others,

I wouldn’t be so dirt.

I was the first,

to judge me, in the bad.

To think of me as a criminal.

Always punishing.

But I didn’t need this meal.

I’m smart enough to know,

when I’m wrong.

Now, I can be strong,

I can be on my own,

I can love.

I just needed to be me.

Instead of somebody else,

I was always, so tense.

Instrad of being natural…
Well, not so normal.

Wearing a mask, acting so stealthy,

not so healthy.



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