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18-ago-2009
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Sketch
Sketch Let the charcoal living my skin, which sails between these stealthy Hordes mirrors lacerated by time. Let wrinkles profanes beautiful metaphors that the tears were dressed to the beat of memories. Let it hurt my dreams, the roar of the rainbow to play my voice, that a light leak in the dark clearly and I wake up as a sketch, shriveled and died. Please stop, let me in position prenatal insulted the ghosts these white pages. Fausto Aybar Paginas Patrocinadas :
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