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type of poem

eu năo posso dizę-lo agora
e enquanto nós andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
pensamentos através de minha cabeça
renove a visăo do prazer
em setembro
o mais saddest do ano
vocę ouve a chuva?
uma sombra cinzenta fina na borda do pensamento

 



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