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suicide poem

come le aquile sul high alto
aumentato dai morti
travails della terra
dove io trovili
fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
di ci non era mai un suono al lato il legno ma uno
amavo una donna
ora che mi sono raffreddato a voi
ci è uno che quella i amava una volta così tanto
scattando in su, cadendo
uno sguardo è ma un raggio

 



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