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Quema,
su ausencia.
Suaves pasos,
de inocencia.
Clavado el puñal,
donde no llegas.
No existe traicion,
sin ton ni son.
Los suaves pasos
de la compasion,
no existen, sin vos.
El agua, está turbia
Sin claridad, no hay
quien lo intuya.
Sube la marea
y se la lleva.
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