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sister poem

dal puntello, dal mare
come livellare cade
amo non troppo bene la mia vita, ma
il prato stava strisciando
ma non posso ora leggerlo
quando il vento funziona contro di noi nell'oscurità
la mia madre lo ha insegnato che ogni notte
quelli sul superiore dicono che li conoscono, terra -- sono liars
scuro-eyed
tristemente parlando

 



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