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romantic poem

meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
o que mim lhe devem
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
uma tempestade está montando na maré
o doce com fern e levantou-se
acima do sul na ruptura do dia
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
eu vi que o deus você a duvida?
do sol nem das estrelas
porque então, a obrigação nós vê?

 



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