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kid poem

não pendure nenhuma grinalda
veja que eu me dou a você
ido antes de nós
alguns dias mais ventosos
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
quando eu for para trás ligar à terra
dê-me a fome
é frequentemente não assim?
você é bonito e desvanecido

 



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