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funny poetry

seu cabelo bonito
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá
eu estive
era năo para esse cheiro singular
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
nunca em toda minha vida
para vir assim logo a isto imaginou a obscuridade
eu era um goddess ere o mármore me encontrou
cidade que năo é uma cidade
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor

 



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