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broken heart poem

mas eu não posso lê-lo agora
vinho velho a beber
sob uma árvore espalhando da castanha
pela ponte rude
a escuridão
através do peito aching da terra larga
f4-lo ouvem-se sempre de
em todas as coisas não faladas de
pensamentos através de minha cabeça
uma sombra cinzenta fina na borda do pensamento

 



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