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wedding poetry

sentite la pioggia?
perchè così triste mio bello?
la neve bisbiglia circa me
ci sono tre sensi in cui gli uomini prendono
la nerezza rotola verso l'alto
non posso ritenere sempre il suo greatness
guardi indietro con gli occhi longing e sappia che seguirò
che cosa era esso i motori detti
così perso
un miglio dietro

 



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