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writing poetry

poco parco che attraverso
i cieli che erano ashen e sobrio
potrebbe conoscerla nella molla più in anticipo
come come le stelle è questo il bianco, facce nameless
fiore bianco della gomma piuma, fiore rosso della fiamma
amico, di cui il sorriso è venuto essere
i giorni malinconici sono venuto
l'alba era verde mela
scattando in su, cadendo
stuff della luna

 



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