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sad love poem

una niebla conducía abajo
a lo largo de los bancos
no puedo sentir siempre su greatness
dígame no
la hija, arte del thou viene morir
y todavía caminaron encendido
bucks negros gordos en un cuarto del vino-barril
en y de sí mismo
por las mañanas nube-grises

 



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