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prose poetry

são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
é frequentemente não assim?
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
através do peito aching da terra larga
renove a visão do prazer
não do mundo largo do todo
o rolo sad do cilindro muffled tem a batida
seja paciente, vida, quando o amor está na porta
o mais saddest do ano

 



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