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sad death poem

flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
uma névoa estava dirigindo para baixo
as canções velhas
da canção e do sonho para ido sempre
noite misteriosa
eu era um goddess ere o mármore me encontrou
olhar além
quando eu era um menino na faculdade
em uma câmara velha iluminou-se macia
o relâmpago piscou, e levantou

 



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