I am Manuel Half, half a man.
I come from a homosexual father, who boils, who fights, who laughs at women\’s wombs, another mother of another world–my reality, where there is neither father nor mother.
I am Manuel Half, half a man, from a homosexual father.
I wear my mask, white for truth.
I craft my tear, black for lies.
I wave my fist, red for pain.
I come against you, father, ready to stop you.
To shout against you, I am the half who filled your void.
Fight with me, Father, to discover that love that you say was always denied you, to find the man that is man only if there is woman. And father only if there is mother.
It is this new world I have found, overflowing with a love not extorted, not half but rather complete. That world is the true one.
I am he who stands before you, masked and true, to stop the bloodletting and the poisonous lies. You can touch me. Erase with one blow the hardened tear that is printed unmovingly and yet speaks.
A son does not see things as a son, cannot scream of the right that by man was taken away.
I am Manuel Half, half a man, from a homosexual father. I will never give up.