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birthday poetry

un destello del oro en gloom y gris
expresemos nuestras pasiones más bajas
suavemente llorando
me preguntan donde he estado
lleno esta taza
la hija, arte del thou viene morir
estaba parado
revuelva
hago mi cubierta, pero nadie sabe
simplicidad
en el frunce de la oscuridad y piden
déme
aflíjase no para el invisible
vea el tentativo

 



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