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teen poem

eu era um goddess ere o mármore me encontrou
sua cara é justa e lisa e fina
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
cante-o outra vez à canção cantado
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
quando uma ação for feita para a liberdade
em setembro
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
e ainda andaram sobre
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble

 



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