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narrative poetry

mi chiedono dove sono stato
una penna di acciaio
sentite la pioggia?
ci è uno che quella i amava una volta così tanto
nei numeri mournful
amavo una donna
e mentre abbiamo camminato l'erba debolmente è stata mescolata
quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere
musing, fra il tramonto e l'oscurità

 



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