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poem for dad

una milla detrás
todos esos tesoros que mienten
soy el viento que duda
para poder ver cada lado de cada pregunta
he echado el mundo
ella puede ser que lo haya sabido en el resorte anterior
en el amanecer, él dijo
nobleza de la muerte otra vez
dígame no
el aire es como una mariposa
para mí era concejal gaunt, grave

 



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