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sad poetry

há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
eu despise meus amigos mais do que você
todos quiet ao longo do potomac
eu estou no tempo cinzento frio
eighty anos passaram, e mais
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
simplicity
splendor doce
não pendure nenhuma grinalda
vinho velho a beber
eu sou o vento que wavers
o único punho clenched levantado e apronta-se

 



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