Nunca me eligen y cuando lo hacen no soy suficiente el tiempo lo demuestra a mi o a ellos a veces no soy la que corre más rápido no soy la mas linda ,la más inteligente mucho estudio y poca experiencia ,mucha calle y poca teoría , demasiada memoria y muchas heridas y lo entiendo pero hay algo peor que bte elijan y te dejen de elegir que fallo en el medio que me viste en el camino será eso que me imagino si no escribo,no escriben , si no grito no me escuchan es como quedarse atrás y esperar que se den cuenta aún sabiendo que podré ir adelante para que te vean a veces solo quieres que se den vuelta y te digan dale no te pierdas .
"I am never chosen."
I'm never chosen, and when I am, I'm not enough-time eventually proves it, either to me or to them. Sometimes I'm not the fastest runner, I'm not the prettiest, or the smartest. Too much study and not enough experience; too much 'street' and not enough theory; too much memory and too many wounds.
I understand all that, but there's something worse than being chosen: it's being un-chosen. What fails along the way? What did you see in me during the journey? Maybe it's what I imagine: if I don't write, they don't write; if I don't shout, they don't hear me. It's like staying behind and waiting for them to notice, even knowing I could be at the front just to be seen. Sometimes, you just want them to turn around and say: 'Come on, don't get lost, keep up."