Invisible petals

I'm so tired of this very same thing over and over again. No-one has an idea. Stressed, depressed and tired. I see the same disdain for the human value all around since I was a child submerged in the misery of the military actions of the last dictatorship in Argentina. Of course I get lost in my ideas: I seat on a park bench in front of a bank and I see a person asking for a coin, so I give him a coin, seat again, watch thousands walk by in front of this "invisible" person, an hour later I repeat the action, but then the shame starts to hit faster, and then I repeat 30 minutes later, and then 10 minutes later, but the mind hurts itself diverging from brotherly thoughts, thinking: the most selled magazines are the ones gossiping the show-bussiness workers lives, and the most popular show on tv is about famous people dancing, but the guy seated for over ten hours in front of a bank there, don't even get a look (don't dream a coin or a bill), he's invisible, so it push me to think the human nature is escapist, so I feel each day more separated, and abnormal. I'm so tired of not having a break; it lasts every minute. I never have a vacation. Who can take you from inside a well that is inside of your mind? Do I have to not care to be happy? Do I have to kill something in myself to be happy? I feel stupid, I can't laugh as easily as other person. There is people in Myanmar separated from its family, in detention camps: my mind goes to the jail where my father was when I was a child, away from my mom and I for months, by the miserable actions around the dictatoship here. She fighted alone to have him back. There is people afraid to walk out in the streets of Rangoon: my mind goes to the Malvinas/Falklands time of war when the bigger brothers of my friends broke their teeth to not go to war, that afraid they were! Not even of the war, you got it? Terrified by the coldness of the military junta: they know they were sent to a sure death, because they knew those militar dictators didn't care for them. That is Burma. That it is. Feel I've been there. It is the same military junta over and over again in every country; differences are merely circumstancial. The people is alone, alone in their detention, or alone in their disdain. Alone.

So, exhausted and hollow, again I sent a letter, this time through Amnesty Int. to the minister of foreign affairs of Burma, here:
http://web.amnesty.org/pages/mmr-270907-action-eng
...this time to ask the protesters to be released. But of course I'm sincere, I know better than I've ever talked about military juntas and dictatorial times, I'm simply tired and demoralized because I'm not my mother; and I feel, as everyone, that that will not work in any sensate way. In fact it looks nonsensical against the power they detent, but specially looks nonsensical against the public disdain and silent diplomats. Want to do more, but I've reached the powerless line. Down in the mouth too.

Alone and invisible. Transparent petals we are in our national flowers, many times, unless all united.

One red, burmese version:



One argentinian version: