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gothic poetry

era non per quell'odore singolare
possono comunicare di amore in un cottage
questi sono
rose ed oro
non giri la vostra testa
ho entrato nel deserto perché la mia anima è athirst
sotto il timone del guerriero
desolato e solo
rumori che si sforzano strapparsi
era una bellezza nei giorni
la notte scorsa la luna piena ha posto un panno del bianco
è spesso non così?
morbidamente piangendo

 



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