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thank you poem

poco parque que paso a través
en septiembre
sueño, hermano gris de la muerte
los días melancólicos han venido
veré una estrella esta noche
ido antes de nosotros
todavía trece años
todavía recuerdo sin duda alguna
por completo de rasgones
no hay presa yo de pensamientos pobres
la nieve susurra sobre mí
si el asesino rojo piensa él mata
en la obscuridad y la paz de mi cama final


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