bad mood Miss
mixed blood and forget words,
pretends to have in your pocket the summer, says
still believe in love.
bad mood Miss
hides a notebook of poems,
has already grown tired of its charms, the hotel has forgotten
fury.
Miss bad mood,
are random words that you write?
can still weave a network
your hands cloaked in envy?
Lucrezia Brambillasca
(that rose full of thorns)
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