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gothic poetry

alguns dos hurts que você se curou
tempestade
traga-me a canção macia
veja, desta moeda falsa dele
quem ama a chuva
eu estou morrendo
a escuridão rouba os formulários de todas as rainhas
teria mesmo seu gracejo
composto do loveliness sozinho
você é bonito e desvanecido

 



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