Every time that I hold you in my arms I look at your eyes, I hear your voice and I think about my life into pieces, the payment for all I do for you. I wonder “Why not finish so much bitterness, so much pain?” If next to you I have no future why don’t I rip this love from my chest? Why … if you lie once, if you lie another time and you lie again…? Why … I embrace you again, I kiss you again even when you make me suffer? I know that your love is a wound, it is the cross of my life and my ruin. Why I’m tormented for you and my anxiety for you worsen each time? … Why, with the heart in pieces, I cling to your arms, if you don’t love me?
I can’t live like I live… I know, I understand rightly if with you all I get. the bitter caress of your compassion … But … Why I don’t cry it’s all lies, your love is a lie and why I need your love, if in it I only find martyrdom and pain?