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suicide poem

viejo vino a beber
hace usted oír
oí el viento todo el dia
tengo que decir buonas noches
pero alas, sueños justos
ese año
quién es el corredor en los cielos
las naves están mintiendo en la bahía
ella era una belleza en los días
soy fevered
el olor del se levantó tan falso, las espinas tan verdades
todavía su gris oscila la torre sobre el mar

 



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