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poetry for kid

limps com parar o ritmo doloroso
todos quiet ao longo do potomac
eu amo minha vida, mas não demasiado bem
ao lado de um campo stricken
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
macia agora a luz do dia
era muitas e muito um ano há
minha alma é um campo ploughed escuro
doce e forte

 



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