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mom poem

eu detestei-o
sono, irmăo cinzento da morte
o único punho clenched levantado e apronta-se
eu amo minha hora do vento e da luz
o amor foi cantado mil maneiras
eu tive um medo em minha vida
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
porque o faça sempre carrinho que tirita lá
desde que, se vocę estiver por meu lado hoje
sadly falando

 



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