*I still remember the laughing you allowed me to hear. I still remember the offences you let your kids to scream. For you I was a no named mistake, for you I was a stranger and a mess that could have brought disgraces to face. I had a heart, But you never cared... I got a soul, but you had no traces to dectect it... luckely I've always got love to protect me from your stupid assaults. I never lacked embraces, I never lacked protective forces... But I wonder the way your kids use now to behave. Demons can be raised up, in fluffy shells that seems to care only of their peers to speak up. I wonder the way you've thaught them affection and respect, when they could, with your adfirming grin back, make fun of me just for a surname that I started my days without and only at my third sun out I started to have.* ---------------- pencil on paper, with chalk for the background. No postwork, 22 per 30 cm. For October's Theme "The sleeping of reason produces monsters". ----------------------- This second piece for Goya's inspired October's Theme focuses on the way the malice and bad skill of parents ready not only to justify, but to bad inspire their kids can corrupt both present times of living, and the future one in even worst way. The role of parents is the most delicate and the more I see around, the less I feel many of our societies' shallow personalities can handle it well. Kids are meant to be always sweet? No way. Kids can be violent and abusive and cruel.. especially when they are not put in the right road of care and responsible respect from their families. This piece shows how monsters can be raised by monsters. The girl who cries, well that's me. When at asylum I had to stand idiot remarks from people blaming me because I was adopted. In their stupidity the parents of these little lords were lookin at me with compassion,and that unsufferable look of superiority, like they were having something I lacked, unable to see how lucky I have been instead, to be chosen and loved all my life by a REAL family, and generously and openly accepted and wanted like rarely any other kid on this planet. This piece tells that .. love wins. My tears, those days, were always erased by my beloved mum and dad, who used and still use to say me "people who hate simply cannot understand the meaning of true love. And it's their lacking and their missing and their frajility and fault. Not yours." Enjoy this peculiar work. I thank PunkClown and people in the 2D Forum who allowed this theme, so I could pour out this little stone from my chest :) Hugs everyone... and God bless all those parents who, raising up a child in full love,(a child they took from the refusal of someone else not customized for that delicate role) have showed that the betray of blood can turn out to be a gift from above.And that the only link that counts, is not genetics, but love. To my mum Franca and my dad Giampaolo. For having always made me feel...only their adored daughter :)