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graduation poem

deixe-nos plantar
vindo para baixo no alvorecer dos montes windless
assim perdido
como deva mim ajude à direita ao mundo que está indo erradamente
e nse
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
traga-me a canção macia
estes sejam
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
no alvorecer, disse
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
glass-blower do tempo

 



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