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writing poetry

amo non troppo bene la mia vita, ma
sonno dolce nelle vostre tombe humble
perchč facciali sempre basamento lŕ che rabbrividisce
calma come che seconda estate
la luce ritirata
cosě perso
gloom
il cielo
mi chiedono dove sono stato
ora che mi sono raffreddato a voi
la signora, il vostro cuore si č girata verso polvere
nel vostro volo
ma non posso ora leggerlo

 



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