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daughter poem

aumentato dai morti
un gleam di oro il gloom in e gray
amo rubare per un po'via
senza dubbio mi ricordo di ancora
il bambino che ha gettato via il foglio dopo il foglio
quelli sul superiore dicono che li conoscono, terra -- sono liars
forse è materia che avete morto
lungo le serie
quando i mare-venti hanno perforato i nostri solitudes
con gli occhi meek e marroni

 



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