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prose poetry

abaixo do helm do guerreiro
sadly falando
brilha a última idade, o seguinte com esperança é visto
levantado dos mortos
havia nunca um som ao lado da madeira mas de uma
olhe para trás com olhos longing e saiba que eu seguirei
lá pela janela na casa velha
traga-me a canção macia
eu verei uma estrela hoje à noite
o céu
gloom
vivido pelo river-side
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo

 



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