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Opinii..



Nervii.. nu-s ei tare buni, dar au scris chestii:


Lumea, un cuptor cu lemne arse,
Doar unul scânteie din acele rămase,
Se sting acele minţi ilustre,
Şi toţi ajung nişte lăcuste..

E lumea, praful ce a mai rămas..
Căci tot ce-a fost, acum a ars..
A ars, sursa noastră de gândire,
Şi a ajuns un gol, o-ntindere pustie..

Totul, e degradat, nesemnificativ,
E fără rost, şi totul este progresiv..
Lumea, a ajuns să nu mai fie..
Doar negru, ură şi cenuşă.. plictisire..

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