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They turn the dead sheets,. The roots and to the ground. It turns the pajarillo of the sadness,. In the nest of the branch of my heart,. They turn the separated clouds,. With my horizon of impossible sleep. It turns the tear,. In the endless and black night. It the cold wind it blows again,. In the broken window,. It turns the rain to wet,. That in the streets,. Your steps, desperately,. And I do not manage to find. I am alone again,. I am sad again,. When in a time,.
The Earth is a Bitch. The flowers ignore my desultory pickings,. The trees swathe pollen and allergens,. But no sweet scent smell I. It all seems somewhat faded; now that. Water is greener than all the dry grass,. Even rain has gone south for the winter,. Even weeds wait for this time to pass. And tagged crazy people say crazy things.
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