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friend poem

um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
eu amo minha vida, mas não demasiado bem
é verdadeiro que você diz que os deuses lhe são mais uso do que fairies
com alegria e maravilha
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
quando você vier hoje à noite
era não para esse cheiro singular
eu sou uma mulher
é frequentemente não assim?
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você

 



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