4 jul 2017, 13:27

Compass 

  Poesía » Otra
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in the east
there is sand, and fire, and oath;
in the west 
there is another plague
of the mind and the soul;
in the north
the solitude of every snowflake 
can be felt;
in the south
the ancients are rotting
forgotten because
their stories don't sell

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