Do you still remember our awoken nights
when the lilacs casted rosy shadows,
when the ceiling resembles lustful
eyes pointing up to the sky?
Have you felt that it hurts everywhere,
not just here: to be young.
And to carry inside your soul sort of a blurry sadness
which loves everyone it can help?
And have you ever comforted yourself
by saying that that's what youth is:
that painful, blurry sadness?
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