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suicide poem

era muchas y mucho hace un año
aunque soy poco como todas las pequeñas cosas
las canciones antiguas
la lluvia encima, y el aire brillante
puesto que he sentido el sentido de la muerte
antes del santo de bronce solemne
el solo puño apretado levantado y alista
claro de luna profundo y blando
ahora mientras que están viviendo mis labios

 



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