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child poetry

ho visto i archangels nel mio mela-albero la notte scorsa
stuff della luna
una penna di acciaio
moonlight profondo e tenero
e mentre abbiamo camminato l'erba debolmente è stata mescolata
se esso
pensate, il mio ragazzo, quando metto i miei bracci intorno voi
riempio questa tazza
sonno, fratello grigio della morte
i poets dicono a

 



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