Who made us believe in the unreality of pain?
No, it is not a feeling.
Don’t be silly, it does not change.
This pain is metal-solid and it can not go away.
They call this an isolated room?
I still hear your shouting, taking my silence for a fool.
My mother tongue struggles
Navigating through my nerves, articulating vowels.
Did you mean it? Did you say it?
Dear stop, please don’t dare.
You know nothing of me, you know nothing of you
The person before me is not a person of good.
The money, the assets, they will not follow you
I had long praised your power,
Until power took humanity off you.
Did that power emanate from your money?
Or did the money make you lose sight of me, sight of us?
I blame the trauma of your twenties,
They shaped the hatred of your forties.
I had only asked what I deserved,
but I got your fears instead.
Fear from what, fear from who?
If it's not the future, is it the motherhood?
I am not your son, I am not a threat.
Leave me behind, your ego has no regret.
Do you still not get it?
Pain is not a feeling. Pain can not change.
It will be metal-solid
Until you let repression unclench.
One can survive to things one can’t feel,
Therefore I am fine. Yes, thank you, I am rather well.
And because I have no mercy for your future ahead,
I am able to live with this pain instead.
Yet more years will come.
They will come to meet you.
And each one of them will bring a new hope:
That the mistakes you’ve made trigger at least one tear in me.
That will be a good sign.
Well, the pain that I can feel is the pain that I can heal.
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