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type of poem

en septiembre
se van los tres, esas hermanas raras
vea que me doy usted
amo mi vida, pero no demasiado bien
gloom
de nuestros lugares ocultados
fui arriba y abajo de las calles
mire detrás con los ojos longing y sepa que seguiré
tristes son que saben no amor
él vino tomarme por la mano

 



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