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You keep asking me to be more honest, reveal more. You're stripping me down, piece by piece, but the thing is; I'm already naked. You're just hopelessly tearing off my skin because you so desperatly wanna find something that isn't there. I must say that I feel sorry for you. Forcing me to be so honest sometimes just forces me to lie more. At least you tried.
A poem every day.

This is for my parents.

— The End —