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sad poetry

si muero, piense solamente esto en mí
mi madre me trenza las rosas mojadas con rocío
es usted vivo?
suave como la cama en la tierra
la mujer faltó mucho, cómo usted llama a mí, llamada a mí
vea, de esta falsificación de él
dentro de este sepulcro humilde un conqueror miente

 



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