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birthday poetry

fra il fumo e nebbia di un pomeriggio di dicembre
di ci non era mai un suono al lato il legno ma uno
short e dolce ed abbiamo arrivato alla fine di esso
ci era uno strangeness sui vostri labbri
della l'oscuritĂ  e pace nel mia base finale
quale si conservare
quando vado di nuovo a terra
non ci è moltitudine, comunque guardato e teso
città che non è una città

 



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