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christmas poem

deixe-nos expressar nossas paixões mais baixas
era uma beleza nos dias
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
e com o pássaro humming
do assoalho ao teto
pouca porta foi alcançada no último
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
cara esposa

 



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