I have been asked,
to take the poetry train
to my country
to the boundaries of my existence.
Shout that it is enough,
a protest
something that raises the voice,
against anything that cries injustice.
Poverty, starvation, racism
inequality, abuse.
To raise our voice
is to poke the inaction,
of those who live
without screaming the pain of others
it is not walking the labyrinths,
of the living in the cemeteries
the innocent jailed
or the children, that like dirty rats
inhabit the sewers,
of any city.
All stigmatized!
By whom?
Social hooded
that nobody sees
they corrupt, steal, and kill.
We
wander the streets,
like ghosts that everyone sees
projecting the illusion of anonymity
justifying
social inertia.