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short poem

il fratello, sono fuoco
sopra i tetti corra le ombre delle nubi
ciň č l'arsenale
alcuni dei hurts che avete curato
passato inesorabile di thou
fate non sentirsi
i loro capelli bei
ho vinto la corsa
ma alas, sogni giusti
in possa
il pietoso piccolo, portato, facce ridere
dicami non
improvvisamente, dai sensi scuri e frondosi

 



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