I know that my sister is in the grave of a small cemetery, but I do not know her face: The circumstances ended up not allowing her to leave triumphantly from my mother's womb to tell the darkness that she had defeated her.
Yes, at that time of violence in La Loma, life wanted to open up in my house ... But plum, who had to come with life, ended up being born dead.
I never wrote his name and now almost seven years later, they excuse the harshness, I do not believe that doing so will have an effect.
Let's cry for the living, not for the dead; I have been told many times ... The phrase that used to sound blah blah by blaaaaaaaaaa, today acquires meaning: Do not cry for the dead, cry for the living that seem to be dead.
Written by catirestrepo