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black poetry

ella debe ir detrás, ella dijo
mi madre me enseñó que cada noche
cuando el viento trabaja contra nosotros en la obscuridad
el solo puño apretado levantado y alista
truely
ruidos que se esfuerzan rasgarse
déjeme ser triste
no dé vuelta a su cabeza
como va un hombre desnudo yo
brilla la edad pasada, el siguiente con esperanza se ve
él habla no bien

 



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