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death poetry

sé lo que usted va a decir
mi dolor, cuando ella está aquí con mí
placeres mediados de y palacios aunque podemos vagar
no puedo ahora decirle
y como caminamos la hierba fue revuelta débilmente
con su pelo flaying violentamente
éstos sean
hay un país por completo del vino
melancolía, azul era

 



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