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death poetry

estoy viejo y oculto
la medianoche pasada
la nieve susurra sobre mí
cuando las horas del día se numeran
mi dolor, cuando ella está aquí con mí
los cielos que eran ashen y sobrio
en el amanecer, él dijo
el pequeño lamentable, usado, caras el reír
no hay presa yo de pensamientos pobres
simplemente hablando
un destello del oro en gloom y gris
los días hypocritic
ésta es la nave de la perla
me preguntan donde he estado

 



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