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halloween poem for kid

flores dos bebês
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
até sua janela da câmara
em números mournful
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
eu detestei-o
ruídos que strive rasgar
escute
ame-me no último, ou se você não
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
eu encho este copo
não seja falso
as canções velhas
eu não posso sempre sentir seu greatness

 



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