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suicide poetry

così perso
non ci è moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso
serene di pomeriggio e luminoso verdi
sono stancare di essere amaro e stancare di essere saggio
è venuto prenderlo dalla mano
nel vostro volo
la luna aumentante ha nascosto le stelle
in tutte le cose non parlate di
morbidamente piangendo
se fossi molto sicuro

 



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