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dark poetry

quando a noite drifts ao longo das ruas da cidade
algum queixou-se ao mestre
eu amo minha vida, mas nĂŁo demasiado bem
flores dos bebĂŞs
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
perguntam-me onde eu estive
um pensamento doce solemn
a luz retirada
o que era ele os motores ditos
como deva mim ajude à direita ao mundo que está indo erradamente
tiveram e i mas encontrado com
arched a inundação
sombras voadas que varrem perto
temos nĂłs nenhum shame?

 



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