If I see a young lady being rapped, i wouldnt hesitate and I´d call the police, i´d be part of this . I would never stop to think in that instant about the fair of justice, or in the sort of ephimerous destiny of the delinquent.
When i see a child suffering from hunger, a child with no education, an unprotected child , i´m tempted to question the just of justice. The benefit of doing the right thing, the functioning of institutions, The strength of acts and civil behaviour.

Im looking for excuses to justify what left that child there.
I just want to escape from my own guilts.
Am I not horrified by crimes against childhood? do i accept a suffering child?
im a criminal, witness and accomplice without punishment.

How can i accept an inocent taking the blame?
i am tired of justice sweetening the atrocities of men
I do not accept, under no circunstancies, a democracy, a justice or a citizenship that doesn´t get horrified of this facts..

I do not accept a god that in my salvation lets a child in amid of hardship.And if i have to pay with hell and fight against him, i prefer my flesh to burn, but my soul will never agree with the suffering from hunger and misery of the children of the world.

Stinky is the progress in your history.
The suffering is the concrete that your rented social constructions buy.
It is suffering what you pay with for you comfort and benefits.
It is not your crying, your are not good at that, you buy it from someone else.
The crying of a kid in his far away neighbourhood, the cold he goes through Every night, pays your son´s studies, his food and his happiness..
The price of progress is in inocents´ tears, they pay for what they don´t see.
Look at them in the streets, playing. they are still laughing a little
They are looking for tenderness, as your childen.
Look at yours, and tell them that the future you bought them is above other ones´ grave.
If you can, do it, tell them to go and play with them, dancing the death round that screams from the other ones bellies..
You can´t
Feel ashamed when you step on the street
Because from the concret of progress, souls claim for their calamity.
Dont look at your neightbour, he wont look back at you either, be the blame a weight in you look
Carry with your eyes the rest of your days
Today, when you eat, you´ll eat the flesh of that kid that smiled in his little brothers´ arms.
Eat progress the rest of your life, this life will forget about you and your history.
But the life that history does not swallow, you´ll carry it forever in you hell.