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short poem

ainda treze anos
filhas do tempo
olhe para trás com olhos longing e saiba que eu seguirei
a o que uma mulher a comparará beloved
fala não bem
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
as verdades terríveis estes sejam
cai aqui nenhuma luz
nenhuma rapina é mim de pensamentos pobres
eu estou morrendo

 



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