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sad poem

alguns dos hurts que você se curou
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coração da pedra
eliminar, esforçando-se vainly
eu sou cansado de ser amargo e cansado de ser sábio
uma tempestade está montando na maré
em seus braços estava o prazer imóvel
têm você andar visto através da vila
qual se mantem
eu ganhei a raça

 



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