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sex poem

behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
ouviu as crianças jogar no sol
eu quero saber onde vocę vive
eu estou morrendo
eu năo posso sempre sentir seu greatness
teria mesmo seu gracejo
para vestir o pensamento impetuoso
f4-lo ouvem-se sempre de
era muitas e muito um ano há
bonito
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhă

 



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