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keskiviikko 23. syyskuuta 2015

In September, the red towards the moon



The world is sometimes something
the beautiful, and the same kind of pain,

it is the feeling when, loves kids of the goats.
And a number of other astrology
characters behind gallop
lasso fluttering on the high peers.
At night, dreams lost, they cut
the cruel cross of love
cutting circular saw nightmare.
I dream of long pipes,
monsters, and the coronation of love will be charged.


September is, and the days become shorter,
towards the winter sun
Minute shone, glowed for a while.
Capturing the feeling of love,
tightness in the head hoop.
I am writing a story,
an ode to the capricious human aries.


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