Gente Humilde

There are certain days
When I think of my people
And I feel
My whole chest tighten
Because it seems
To happen suddenly
Like a desire to live without noticing me
Just like everything, when I pass
Through a suburb
I feel very well, coming by train
From somewhere
Then I envy
These people
Who move forward
Without even having someone to rely on
They are simple houses
With chairs on the sidewalk
And on the facade, written above
That it's a home
On the balcony, sad
And barren flowers
Like the joy that has no
Place to rest
And then a sadness
Fills my chest
Like a resentment of not having
How to fight
And I don't believe
I pray to God for my people
They are humble people
It makes me want to cry