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black poetry

assim perdido
simplesmente falando
minha mãe ensinou-me que cada noite
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
como uma vela branca
de nossos lugares escondidos
pela ponte rude
que possibilidade spiteful rouba unawares
eu sou velho e cego
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer

 



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