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gothic poetry

l'aria è come una farfalla
la mia madre twines me rose bagnate con rugiada
perchè sono le cose che non hanno morte
il lampo ha esposto a flash ed ha alzato
li ho fatti un'offerta tutto l'addio
lungamente fa, nel moonlight giovane
alti pareti ed enorme
ancora il suo gray oscilla la torretta sopra il mare

 



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