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sad poetry

felicidad
mi hijo es muerto y soy persiana que va
usted piensa, mi muchacho, cuando pongo mis brazos alrededor de usted
envuelva la tierra en tiempo nublado
he venido en el desierto porque mi alma es athirst
los días melancólicos han venido
tristemente hablando
ella sabe un lanzamiento barato
nosotros que estaban parados
he ganado la raza
la agonía del tener demasiada energía

 



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