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friend poetry

la festività reale è stata fatta
uomo freddo severo
sono il vento che esita
il mio dispiacere, quando è qui con me
se lo slayer rosso pensa slays
il corpo può limitare
la neve bisbiglia circa me
sto morendo
tre giorni li ho sentiti addolorarsi quando mi situo completamente
li ho detestati
nella sfera
l'odore del è aumentato così falso, le spine così allineare
alti pareti ed enorme

 



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