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math poem

amo robar un rato lejos
soy cansado de ser amargo y cansado de ser sabio
nunca haba un sonido al lado de la madera pero de una
no d vuelta a su cabeza
el aire es como una mariposa
no sea falso
flores de bebs
para arropar el pensamiento ardiente
vea, ellos vuelven
travails de la tierra

 



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