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teen poem

eu sou o vento que wavers
ame-me no último, ou se você não
cante-o outra vez à canção cantado
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
nós quebramos o vidro cujo vinho sacred
as montanhas são povos silenciosos
dentro desta sepultura humilde um conqueror encontra-se
calma como que segundo verão
levantou-se e o âmbar era o por do sol no rio
nós não éramos muitos

 



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