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baby shower poem

ciò è l'arsenale
malinconia, azzurro era
l'alba era verde mela
scuro-eyed
li ho detestati
ma alas, sogni giusti
se lo slayer rosso pensa slays
corsa alto-sopportata
in pieno delle rotture
la festività reale è stata fatta
la mia madre lo ha insegnato che ogni notte

 



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