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Mostrando las entradas etiquetadas como family

Persona non grata

Persona non grata I am To friends and family Because I made a life In times when no one deserves to   Persona non grata © 2018 Grecia Albornoz

Profecía

Ningún yugo dura para siempre Ni el más insignificante yugo familiar Porque moriremos Y con la muerte, Tu inseguridad posesa de poder. No le temo a tu jaula de vapor Porque mientras aprietas tus garras ilusorias Yo construyo mi vida Libre. © 2016 Grecia Albornoz ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Prophecy No burden lasts forever Nor the most insignificant of family burdens Cause we’ll die And with death Your power possessed insecurities. I don’t fear your vapor cage Cause as you tighten your illusory claws I build my life Free. © 2016 Grecia Albornoz

To whom it may concern

M y mom and dad stopped loving each other a long time ago. They have left their unresolved issues take over them, they have hid their pain  and regret deep inside their chests, and now they just can’t take it anymore. I have always thought their marriage was too complex for me to decipher and sometimes I think there is only a thin thread keeping them from falling apart. When I think of home, I think of yellow and warmth. My parents have done an amazing job at creating a home; they had prayed together, they had stood by each other at difficult times (poverty and disease) but they have also done each other wrong. I believe they’re more like friends now although I remember they once told me they had no friends; not real friends: “People usually aren't friends with each other; there isn't such a thing” -Mom said. “Not even Mr. A, our neighbor”-She pointed out. In my mind, Mr. A and his family were the closest example of loyal friends; or that I thought. “Not even him” I

They don't know

The young don’t know they won’t be anymore. That' s why I don’t complain when in the bus no one gives me a seat And I have to stand up my whole journey. I understand them. They don’t know.  They’ll be old, one day. And they’ll remember all the old chaps they didn’t help.... They....hum.... Who knows what they’ll think! They might not even reach my age. This youth dies young. © 2012 Grecia Albornoz