Abandoned Child

Abandoned Child

An abandoned child is so full of pain.
Whatever abandoned him lives so long
by making use of his life.
In his body it leaves a migraine, a gastric ulcer,
a stone of time and despair.
An abandoned child holds so many scars,
but those sharp knives and rough files have softened,
losing their posterity.
Snowy nights he holds it all tightly in his arms,
repeating the only dear name silently,
As if in the thin line between his lips there throbs
an electrocardiogram of the fate of humanity,
which is beginning to zigzag.