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[singing quitely to himself with his poems in a bathroom stall]
Do you remember me? The way it used to be? Do you think we should have been closer? Put out my hand, just to touch your soft hair. To make sure in the darkness, that you were still there. And I have to admit, I was just a little afraid. Of the ones living under the dirty old knife. And the ones who were pointed with guns to their backs.
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05/03/2025 alle ore 07:32
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