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poetry wounds itself in our hands as we are wounded, in turn, by its escaping太夏天了
poetry wounds itself in our hands as we are wounded, in turn, by its escaping太夏天了
poetry wounds itself in our hands as we are wounded, in turn, by its escaping太夏天了
poetry wounds itself in our hands as we are wounded, in turn, by its escaping太夏天了
poetry wounds itself in our hands as we are wounded, in turn, by its escaping太夏天了