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baby poem

cuál era él los motores dichos
todos esos tesoros que mienten
los días hypocritic
pero no puedo ahora leerle
un pensamiento dulce solemne
ciudad que no es una ciudad
fuera de mí indigno y desconocido
el sol está para arriba
la oscuridad
el dulce con el fern y se levantó
los hice una oferta todo el adiós

 



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