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sad poetry

il mio figlio è guasto e sono ciechi andanti
fate sentirsi
il padrone dei destini umani sono io
agito i miei capelli nel vento della mattina
ultima mezzanotte
non brucio incenso
guardi indietro con gli occhi longing e sappia che seguirò
un cielo che non ha conosciuto mai il sole, la luna o le stelle
deve andare indietro, ha detto

 



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