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grandmother poem

nobility da morte outra vez
sombras voadas que varrem perto
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
as verdades terríveis estes sejam
eu sei não onde
agite
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
para estes braços brancos sobre minha garganta
eu sou o vento que wavers
porque então, a obrigação nós vê?
meu sorrow, quando for aqui com mim

 



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