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type of poetry

sonno, fratello grigio della morte
la pioggia finito e l'aria brillante
senza dubbio mi ricordo di ancora
ho sentito tutto il giorno il vento
è venuto prenderlo dalla mano
behold me, in miei chiffon, garza e canutiglia
scuro-eyed
ad alcuno i dii grassi
in pieno delle rotture
addolorisi non per l'invisibile
faccio la mia protezione, ma nessuno sa

 



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