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love poetry chat

la notte è scura ed i venti di inverno
ora
è spesso non così?
abbiamo nessuno shame?
era l'autunno dell'anno
il bambino che ha gettato via il foglio dopo il foglio
amilo in fine, o se non
chi ama la pioggia
e pane del breaketh non di più
per allora senza
qui cade nessuna luce

 



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