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sad poetry

os dias melancólicos vieram
eu estou morrendo
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
do sol nem das estrelas
evidenciado no glimmer em seus olhos
em setembro
cara esposa
quando uma ação for feita para a liberdade
como deva mim ajude à direita ao mundo que está indo erradamente

 



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