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■ I know what you're thinking, father
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suppressed by the artificial light
of this night shelter, overburdened by the death of your voice, by you without me my mind fails to spread the lamp-black outside with the ill glimpse of the lamp inside this room which incessantly awaits you my thoughts succeed in not arriving to make a cut between the you who leaves and the me that stays it’s a one-shading black in this limbo of screaming nights and unborn kisses the lamp reveals only the stigma of obscurity we are not allowed to embrace goodbyes
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