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black poetry

siete chiari
in vostri bracci era il piacere tranquillo
impaurito nient'altro, dico
mi chiedono dove sono stato
mi domando dove vivete
semplicemente parlando
la figlia, l'arte di thou viene morire
il singolo pugno serrato alzato e ready
č venuto prenderlo dalla mano
ci erano tre nel prato dal ruscello
quando libertŕ dalla sua altezza della montagna
musing, fra il tramonto e l'oscuritŕ

 



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