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teen love poem

forse è materia che avete morto
l'odore del è aumentato così falso, le spine così allineare
vecchio vino da bere
benchè sia piccolo come tutte le cose piccole
semplicità
i giorni hypocritic
glooms delle viv-quercie
non si addolori che finito
tutti si acquietano lungo il potomac
uccelli contro il vento di aprile
è spesso non così?

 



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