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suicide poetry

porqué son las cosas que no tienen ninguna muerte
en alguna parte leí un cuento extraño, viejo, oxidado
cuando usted viene esta noche
no sea falso
sobre-habi'a preparado el acontecimiento
tres días los oí afligirse cuando pongo absolutamente
aquí cae ninguna luz
el aire es lleno de amanecer y de resorte
voy mi manera complacently
en la tierra silenciosa
los días hypocritic

 



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