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gothic poetry

era l'autunno dell'anno
dato che, se faceste una pausa oggi il mio lato
parla non bene
quegli occhi neri i una volta così elogiato
veda, da questa falsificazione di lui
il fratello, sono fuoco
così perso
per guardare tutto il giorno l'onda blu arricciarsi e rompersi
il più triste dell'anno
short e dolce ed abbiamo arrivato alla fine di esso
uno sguardo è ma un raggio

 



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