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birthday poetry

veda, rinviano
lasci il unsaid bello di parole
la mia anima è un campo arato scuro
passato inesorabile di thou
sedendosi nel suo attuatore che aspetta il vostro tè
è aumentato e l'ambra era il tramonto sul fiume
li ho sentiti nella notte
le vecchie canzoni
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
le ombre pongono lungo broadway

 



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