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father poem

a algum os deuses gordos
você recorda
porque
quem ama a chuva
é verdadeiro que você diz que os deuses lhe são mais uso do que fairies
apenas como meus dedos nestas chaves
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
o cheiro do levantou-se assim falso, os espinhos assim verdadeiros
eu vou minha maneira complacently

 



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