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erotic poem

che probabilità spiteful ruba i unawares
i poets dicono a
non brucio incenso
ci è un paese in pieno di vino
una foschia stava guidando giù
per allora senza
ha sentito i bambini giocare al sole
serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi
sono una donna
non giri la vostra testa
truely
da me indegno e sconosciuto

 



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