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friend poetry

nei numeri mournful
il mio figlio č guasto e sono ciechi andanti
aumentato dai morti
con di anima dei labbri colore rosso e cuore della pietra
il vecchio ovest, il vecchio tempo
lo ho visto una volta prima
ha detto
l'aria č come una farfalla
dolce e forte
con il tramonto
tre anni fa oggi
deve andare indietro, ha detto
quando le ore del giorno sono numerate

 



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