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mother daughter poem

tristi sono che conoscono non l'amore
ciò è l'arsenale
era una bellezza nei giorni
risiedo alla montagna della tabella
il corpo può limitare
chi chiamerà il vento
non posso ora dirvi
era molte e molto un anno fa
ho lanciato il mondo
se avessi saputo lo stretto una prigione è amore
il bambino che ha gettato via il foglio dopo il foglio
amo rubare per un po'via
la nerezza rotola verso l'alto

 



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