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grandmother poem

déjenos compasión los de quienes sea mejor que nosotros son
las sombras ponen a lo largo de broadway
puesto que he sentido el sentido de la muerte
si el asesino rojo piensa él mata
sobre ellas todas, mirando abajo
los días endeared a cada MUSE
por las mañanas nube-grises
una vez este césped suave
ella puede ser que lo haya sabido en el resorte anterior

 



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