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suicide poem

a che cosa una donna la paragonerà cara
provato nel glimmer nei vostri occhi
dai nostri posti nascosti
mondo che cambia sotto la mia mano
come un uomo nudo io va
dicami non
il più triste dell'anno
le verità terribili questi sono
non giri la vostra testa
siete chiari
quando libertà dalla sua altezza della montagna
ancora tredici anni
figlie di tempo
sotto la luna della raccolta

 



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