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La morte del supplente


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Dentro questo tempio, 

in piedi sopra al palco,

saluti professore 

neanche ti conosco. 

Lontani quei momenti

di un' Avola assolata, 

aria senza ossigeno 

e poca gente in strada,

Nostalgiche risuonano

le antiche debolezze,

quei giorni spensierati

pensando al mio domani.

I dubbi si dissolvono,

lontano il pessimismo

e se mi guardo oggi 

è consapevolezza.

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