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son poem

era não para esse cheiro singular
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
ouviu as crianças jogar no sol
e com o pássaro humming
deixe-me ser sad
apenas como meus dedos nestas chaves
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
há um país completamente do vinho
o prado estava rastejando
para vir assim logo a isto imaginou a obscuridade
eu vi com olhos abertos
são você acordado?
sombras voadas que varrem perto

 



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