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life poem

el sentarse en su eje de balancín que espera su té
la hija, arte del thou viene morir
porqué entonces, la necesidad nosotros ve?
de nuestros lugares ocultados
las sombras de las naves
hombre frío severo
poca puerta fue alcanzada en el último
todos tragan los años
déjenos compasión los de quienes sea mejor que nosotros son

 



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