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footprint poem

il mio figlio č guasto e sono ciechi andanti
in un vecchio alloggiamento si č illuminato morbidamente
sono vecchio e cieco
basso! 'tis un la notte di gala
uno per uno, come va da un albero
rumori che si sforzano strapparsi
il lampo ha esposto a flash ed ha alzato
semplicemente parlando
l'alba era verde mela
non posso ritenere sempre il suo greatness


 



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