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christian poetry

deixe-me ser sad
raça elevado-carregada
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
truely
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
alguns dias mais ventosos
sua cara é justa e lisa e fina
o ar é como uma borboleta

 



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