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suicide poetry

cuando la noche mandila a lo largo de las calles de la ciudad
de nuestros lugares ocultados
no puedo sentir siempre su greatness
viejo vino a beber
la luna de levantamiento ha ocultado las estrellas
la noche era negra y drear
usted es hermoso y descolorado
el pasar a través de las paredes amontonadas y feas
hay un país por completo del vino
con alegría y maravilla

 



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