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sad poem

ho visto che il dio voi lo dubita?
candele che si rovesciano obliquamente in latte del pomodoro
ottanta anni hanno passato e più
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
benchè sia piccolo come tutte le cose piccole
un poet, prendente il freno fuori della sua linguetta
amo rubare per un po'via
quel compagno sconosciuto è venuto sul mescolareare i piedi
tranquillamente, con il reverance, nel awe

 



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