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sad poetry

una foschia stava guidando giů
se esso
braided e tessuto
non ci č moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso
persino avrebbe suo scherzo
ci sono guadagni per tutte le nostre perdite
portimi la canzone morbida
tempesta
quelli sul superiore dicono che li conoscono, terra -- sono liars
cosě perso
behold me, in miei chiffon, garza e canutiglia
desolato e solo
dai prati ricchi con cereale

 



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