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friend poetry

rompemos el cristal que vino sagrado
amo robar un rato lejos
el sol está para arriba
camino abajo de las trayectorias del jardín
hay una ciudad, builded por ninguna mano
el pasar a través de las paredes amontonadas y feas
los pasillos de mármol resounding largos
behold yo, en mi chiffon, gasa y malla
el viejo oeste, el viejo tiempo
aunque soy poco como todas las pequeñas cosas

 



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