My solitude

My solitude is the guilt of all my being,
because of it I create,
I love and I suffer.
A torn heart over and again.

I do not wish it,
I run and hide it behind people.
I want it and I hate it,
I love it and I despise it.
Mi solitude is not silenced, it is musical,
because of it I write stories and songs.
I don’t want to have it,
but I meet it.
Always a recollection of my origin and destiny,
memory of what it could be but is not.

My solitude is the companion of my life.
A lonely soul,
I know.
Sadness that embraces me and I want to pull out,
deep heady melancholy,
profound melodic loneliness.
In its interior I find the explanation of my fate.



My solitude is singular,
my essence is stuck inside.
My persona will die with it,
maybe I would be vulgar without it.
Because of it I love life itself.