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I could live angry with life,
for the shadows that have crossed my path,
for the tears that, like a river,
have dug furrows of loneliness.
I could hold a grudge in my breast,
For the thorns that time left behind,
for the hugs that never came,
for the words that the wind swept away.
I could be as warm as fire
or cold as ice and its cruel end,
but I choose between laughter and dreams
to weave a future I can embrace.
I could live angry, it's true,
but I prefer peace in my being,
to search in the cracks of life
for the flowers that sometimes refuse to bloom.