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marriage poem

eu despise meus amigos mais do que vocę
eu espero-o
eu encho este copo
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
sono, irmăo cinzento da morte
era o outono do ano
um pęssego pequeno no pomar cresceu
vocę é bonito e desvanecido
na esfera
a agonia de ter demasiado poder
agora quando meus bordos viverem
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza

 



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