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love poetry chat

se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
no porto de york novo
do assoalho ao teto
macia weeping
sobre o rio, no monte
este é o arsenal
eu vi-o uma vez antes
entre as montanhas eu vagueei
pensamentos através de minha cabeça
em seus braços estava o prazer imóvel
eu arremessei minha alma ao ar como um vôo do falcão
deixe um sustento da alegria você

 



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