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narrative poetry

ombre alate che scopano vicino
con di anima dei labbri colore rosso e cuore della pietra
mi chiedono dove sono stato
semplicemente parlando
amo rubare per un po'via
le canzoni antiche
non sia falso
nel vostro volo
nelle mattine nube-grige
con i suoi capelli che flaying sfrenatamente
li ho sentiti nella notte
quale si conservare
sono stancare di essere amaro e stancare di essere saggio

 



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