Mientes

Blessed are they, his friends
Who can be by your side, woman
Who go to your house and share your table and to me the sadness
Is killing me
Blessed are those who can talk to you
And be the witnesses when you kiss him
I, however, dare to shout that it's all a farce
That you don't love him
You lie when you smile in front of them to please them
And if you hug him when you caress him, you're so afraid that
He realizes that your hands are two ice toruses
You lie, because when you look at me, a river of fire runs through your blood
Because we are both simple puppets in this sad game
That your husband who always exhibits you as a great trophy...
You lie, you lie, you lie