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footprint poem

pensate, il mio ragazzo, quando metto i miei bracci intorno voi
nel vostro volo
migliori che il granito
per verit, per amore
deve andare indietro, ha detto
la mia madre lo ha insegnato che ogni notte
dite che lo amate
nei numeri mournful
dicami pi di meno o dicami di pi
forse materia che avete morto

 



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