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broken heart poem

bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
uma pena do aço
doubtless eu recordo ainda
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
melhore do que o granito
vinho velho a beber
a o que uma mulher a comparará beloved
no alvorecer, disse
veio fazer exame de me pela mão

 



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