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sunnuntai 16. huhtikuuta 2017

Sointula




The World is at the heart of
sometimes too scary
breathe some people
are a sick evil.
Dictators always somewhere
people's lives monitor.
I secretly hid
Sointula its café culture
the shadows. I do not have them
people who can
belonging to one of the finished
tray. Sometimes, maybe wardrobe
a corner of your retreat
will build.
Young and old people
I shake hands. I express
silently hoping my name
that strange new types
The poet slippery me
hour.
Always talk things or the next.
I see a beautiful man
through the door finish.
He smiles to me,
and most cordial shaking hands.
I'm going home
he repeatedly asks
Do not go yet.
I will go even still overwhelmed
I was his eyes, and gaze.
Maybe sometimes we still somewhere
is encountered, it remains the case to my mind
the ailment.
Yet the industry to bury their own digging,
I'm already half dead
even though I breathe, and
poem steed in the morning light
new shoes shod foot.


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