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kid poem

dígame
aunque soy poco como todas las pequeñas cosas
suavemente llorando
vi las nubes entre las colinas
aquí miente una señora más hermosa
mi alma es un campo arado oscuro
una pluma del acero
asustado no más, digo
hasta su ventana del compartimiento
expresemos nuestras pasiones más bajas
vivido por la orilla
me pregunto a veces si es realmente verdad
flores de bebés
trenzado y tejido

 



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