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sad poetry

siete bei e sbiaditi
senza sosta
l'odore del è aumentato così falso, le spine così allineare
il mio figlio è guasto e sono ciechi andanti
amavo una donna
conosco non dove
passato inesorabile di thou
la luce ritirata
quale si conservare
veda lo sperimentale
e con l'uccello di ronzio
nella terra silenziosa
era una bellezza nei giorni
i poets dicono a

 



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