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Curtal Sonnet

As Jesus was sleeping behind a rock

The bus station was blooming

The passengers standing in a snaked line

My backpack stuffed with jeans and socks

Trying my best to look unassuming

There are no seats, we are all assigned

Five hours later I arrive home

I rush to my room and I want to sing

I lay down, I rest my head, I smile

On my childhood bed, I lie alone

End of trial

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