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dark poetry

pensate, il mio ragazzo, quando metto i miei bracci intorno voi
l'odore del è aumentato così falso, le spine così allineare
il sole è in su
ultima mezzanotte
non posso ora dirvi
cammino giù i percorsi del giardino
ma non posso ora leggerlo
in un vecchio alloggiamento si è illuminato morbidamente
faccio la mia protezione, ma nessuno sa
basso! 'tis un la notte di gala

 



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