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footprint poem

quando le ore del giorno sono numerate
o giusta e stately domestica, di cui occhi
il mio figlio è guasto e sono ciechi andanti
senza sosta
i cieli che erano ashen e sobrio
semplicità
una tempesta sta guidando sulla marea
l'agonia di avere troppa alimentazione
e mentre abbiamo camminato l'erba debolmente è stata mescolata
ha incurvato l'inondazione
perchè

 



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