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Your peasant land, your way of speaking, your love for people and your identity.
Itzel your name, history and ancestral culture, life of struggle and tenacity.
On the way to the river, work and commitment, never minding the need.

That is your life, girl born, signed by mandate of your community.
They cut off your body, and you still don’t understand the harsh reality.
Crying without suffering, beliefs without truth.

You grow Itzel subjected to your context as a property.
Indigenous girl, unable to speak, you follow a pattern at your young age.
The adult exhausts you, humiliates you, hurts you, violates your health and sensitivity.

Unconsciously believing that there is no opportunity.
Beautiful angelic face, look that you have asking for mercy.
You were born expecting love, protection and security.

Obedient to all, without an inner voice, slowly losing freedom.
Your decisions don’t count, least of all your authenticity.
And so there is disagreement, as you grow you agree out of necessity.

Itzel, deep in her heart knows that she must seek her happiness.
And still hurt, she decides to let go as she longs to seek a trip to her tranquility.
Without leaving her roots, forgiving and without eagerness, in search of her true identity.

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