*The badly-bred son. The one his family doesn't even love.
He found his place in the digital world.
With the eyes of a good child.
He captivates equal people in resentment.*
*Acting daily. A character plays.
Supposed death, pain and darkness, he says he surrounds him.
Everything is a facade. A lie. A pantomime.*
*Letters full of incoherence.
The praises of the false ones like him.
In a genius he is made to believe.*
*I am happy but I am sad. I laugh but cry.
And a string of idiocies releasing without stopping.
An eminence tells him the hyenas as he walks.*
*An unbalanced mind, he says to have.
But it's a simple lie that he doesn't even believe.*
*A laughter accompanies his conversations.
His little sequito seconds it in the party.*
*Enraptured at his performance.
The ill-bred child closes his theatre.
Giving them away to the idiotized.
A sigh that keeps him unbalanced.*