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mother daughter poem

sobre los tejados compita con las sombras de nubes
la tierra guarda cierto ir de la vibración
glooms de los vivir-robles
todos tragan los años
tome mis pulseras
le estoy cantando
soy fevered
hasta su ventana del compartimiento
déjeme ser triste
dígame menos o dígame más
quizás no es ninguna materia que usted murió
nosotros que estaban parados
sacudaro mi pelo en el viento de la mañana

 



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