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thanksgiving poetry

a algum os deuses gordos
escuro-eyed
todo meu amor para meu doce
meu sorrow, quando for aqui com mim
o mistério o mais escuro, o mais estranho
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
nós não éramos muitos
macia agora a luz do dia
não pendure nenhuma grinalda
porque assim sad meu encantador?
era não para esse cheiro singular

 



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