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prose poetry

mai in tutta la mia vita
era l'autunno dell'anno
lasci il unsaid bello di parole
mi levo in piedi nel tempo grigio freddo
al lato di un campo raso
dite che lo amate
conosco che cosa state andando dire
ho guardato sul cielo glorious
quanto selvaggio, come strega-come bizzarro che la vita dovrebbe essere
il mio figlio è guasto e sono ciechi andanti
poco cancello è stato raggiunto in fine
nella sfera

 



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