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epic poetry

la oscuridad roba las formas de todas las reinas
me pregunto a veces si es realmente verdad
con los ojos mansos, marrones
no puedo ahora decirle
las montañas son gente silenciosa
el viejo oeste, el viejo tiempo
deje el unsaid encantador de las palabras
un cielo que nunca ha sabido el sol, la luna o las estrellas

 



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