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mom poem

pero no puedo ahora leerle
era no para ese olor singular
levantado de los muertos
lanzaron una piedra, usted lanzaron una piedra
el cuerpo puede confinar
uno con usted
cuando usted viene esta noche
déme el hambre
una tormenta está montando en la marea
glooms de los vivir-robles
debajo de la luna de la cosecha

 



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