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mother daughter poem

receoso não mais, eu digo
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
em seus regimentals ásperos
trançado e tecido
eu vi que o deus você a duvida?
seu cabelo bonito
como como as estrelas é este o branco, as caras nameless
era não para esse cheiro singular
e pão do breaketh mais

 



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