Walking with the child

There was a time in the time when we were innocent, and everything was immense and distant.
Maybe in those times we were waiting for something that never came. Or maybe we were hurt.
In those times]


But our wound was little; because little we were.

In those times like open sun.
Times when we were corduroy of iron, shitheads]



I couldn't walk with the child I was anymore, and he couldn’t wash my sins away.
Because he couldn’t save me from my evil of man.

But learning to love; maybe

just maybe?]


I could make him smile in peace.
Wherever he is.