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suicide poem

tempesta
ci è uno che quella i amava una volta così tanto
morbido come la base nella terra
come come le stelle è questo il bianco, facce nameless
nei numeri mournful
come candela bianca
ancora il suo gray oscilla la torretta sopra il mare
perchè sono le cose che non hanno morte
la notte è scura ed i venti di inverno

 



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