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sad poetry

são você acordado?
seu cabelo bonito
eu sou o vento que wavers
bonito
você diz que você me ama
eighty anos passaram, e mais
quem ama a chuva
deixe-nos plantar
disse
nós não éramos muitos
eu sei não onde
eu quero saber onde você vive
poderíamos nós mas para saber

 



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