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sex poem

i poets dicono a
un uccello ha cantato
sono il vento che esita
quindi non posso
amo non troppo bene la mia vita, ma
ho lanciato il mondo
le preghiere bianche piccole
e mentre abbiamo camminato l'erba debolmente stata mescolata
alcuni giorni pi ventosi
la signora, il vostro cuore si girata verso polvere
lungo le serie
l'aria come una farfalla

 



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