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funny poetry

meu amor verdadeiro de seu descanso levantou-se
alguns dias mais ventosos
eu não posso sempre sentir seu greatness
o ar é como uma borboleta
travails da terra
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
como selvagem, como bruxa-como estranho que a vida deve ser
eu sobre-tinha preparado o evento
abaixo do helm do guerreiro

 



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