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suicide poem

non c'sono nessuna preda io dei pensieri difficili
il mio figlio è guasto e sono ciechi andanti
sono nell'amore con gli alti posti far-seeing
esprimiamo le nostre passioni più basse
così caduto
metà di piaceri e palazzi benchè possiamo vagare
tranquillamente, con il reverance, nel awe
ho entrato nel deserto perché la mia anima è athirst
ora mentre i miei labbri stanno vivendo

 



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