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writing poetry

ho scagliato la mia anima all'aria come un volo del falco
fiore bianco della gomma piuma, fiore rosso della fiamma
non rimanga nient'altro
scattando in su, cadendo
l'alba era verde mela
la canzone e sogno da per andato mai
braided e tessuto
alcuni dei hurts che avete curato
ci erano tre nel prato dal ruscello
pensate, il mio ragazzo, quando metto i miei bracci intorno voi


 



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