What I took for granted now I lack

What I have others take for granted

Will this piece of paper exist in a hundred years?

My words will pass…

I’m not close enough to be a David or a Mozart

The truth is I write from this corner of my room and nobody knows it but the three of us.

Is about time that I take a stand to leave a heritage, to be famous of love, of love.

So who am I really?

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