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suicide poetry

il bambino che ha gettato via il foglio dopo il foglio
provato nel glimmer nei vostri occhi
il singolo pugno serrato alzato e ready
sedendosi nel suo attuatore che aspetta il vostro tè
travails della terra
quando un atto è fatto per la libertà
forse è materia che avete morto
piantiamo
due file dei cavoli
sono una donna
dolce e forte
vecchio vino da bere

 



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