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death poem

o que era ele os motores ditos
eu sou cansado de ser amargo e cansado de ser sábio
o doce com fern e levantou-se
havia um strangeness em seus bordos
quando eu era quebrou em Londres
assim perdido
o mais saddest do ano
até sua janela da câmara
algum queixou-se ao mestre
que possibilidade spiteful rouba unawares
melancolia, azul era
não gire sua cabeça
esse ano

 



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