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poetry for kid

estoy muriendo
nosotros que estaban parados
mi dolor, cuando ella está aquí con mí
poco parque que paso a través
si el asesino rojo piensa él mata
por completo de rasgones
de largo hace, en el claro de luna joven
fuera del profundo y de la obscuridad
de piso al techo
cuando las horas del dĂ­a se numeran
en nĂşmeros mournful

 



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