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broken heart poem

se muoio, pensi soltanto questo me
mi chiedono dove sono stato
in settembre
poco parco che attraverso
morbidamente piangendo
ed il mio nome è sincero
ho avuto un sogno e mi sono svegliato con esso
uomo freddo severo
l'aria è come una farfalla
il cielo
quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere
veda che mi dò voi
forse è materia che avete morto

 



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