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christian poetry

ponemos
mi hijo es muerto y soy persiana que va
el viejo oeste, el viejo tiempo
quién nombrará el viento
la fragancia vino
déme
una mirada es solamente un rayo
para la verdad, para el amor
usted oye la lluvia?
pero alas, sueños justos
pensamientos a través de mi cabeza
reservado, con reverance, en temor
todo mi amor para mi dulce
el pasar a través de las paredes amontonadas y feas

 



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