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son poem

come lui di chi spirito nella fiammata del mezzogiorno
non ho saputo mai che la terra ha avuta così tanto oro
come esso
in pieno delle rotture
come come le stelle è questo il bianco, facce nameless
come io aiuti alla destra il mondo che sta andando male
forse
ci sono guadagni per tutte le nostre perdite
poco cancello è stato raggiunto in fine

 



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