My Prison
ORLANDO MAYETA
When I was a boy, I was treated as such an evil man, because only reprehensible beings were sent to prison. Man can’t see his own face without a mirror; likewise I could think of nothing but sink deeply into thoughts.
When I was a boy, life became pregnant with conflicting insights. Here and there shadow thoughts invaded my kingdom, like illusions approaching the realm of darkness, death victorious. I could think of nothing but hateful desires.
When I was a boy, freedom burned under descending cliffs, solemn moments, for those rocks decay like eternal truth; bare feelings stood upon the summit. I could harbor nothing but evil desires.
When I was a boy, the sun rose sublime, majestic, above those dressed olive-green burned by eyes filled with fiery hate. One hand attempted to restore harmony according to natural laws. I could think of nothing but life as the victor.
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