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sad poetry

rompiamo il vetro di cui vino sacred
pensieri tramite la mia testa
e così va
era l'autunno dell'anno
siete chiari
per allora senza
non ho saputo mai che la terra ha avuta così tanto oro
il bambino che ha gettato via il foglio dopo il foglio
quando vado di nuovo a terra
quelli sul superiore dicono che li conoscono, terra -- sono liars

 



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