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birthday poem

se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
há um que esse i amou uma vez assim muito
para eu era um conselheiro gaunt, grave
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
sobre o rio beckon a mim
ao longo de um river-side
eu estou morrendo
poderíamos nós mas para saber
sob a lua da colheita

 



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