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Elbows on knees Face in hands hair in wet and oily strands Water dripping in a constant tap, tap, tap on the cold cemented floor dusty dark windows and a steel framed door This destitude of solitude with shadows dancing on the walls and in the fainted echoes the night calls a soul so strong but torn apart the beating of a stone cold heart who is this man with the dull brown eyes who sees his pain and hears his cries who is the silhouette in the wooden chair what is the reason of his empty stare This cold that is slowly creeping in will freeze your blood and burn your skin.
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