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narrative poetry

mas alas, sonhos justos
eu quero saber onde você vive
rosas e ouro
desolado e solitário
a senhora, seu coração girou para a poeira
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
não pendure nenhuma grinalda
eu vi com olhos abertos
com alegria e maravilha
sua cara é justa e lisa e fina
três anos há hoje
alguns dos hurts que você se curou

 



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