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life poem

pela ponte rude
eighty anos passaram, e mais
dê-me a fome
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
minha alma vai clad em coisas gorgeous
são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
eu vi as nuvens entre os montes
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
deus
onde deva mim encontre-o
minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro

 



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