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suicide poetry

com os olhos meek, marrons
estrela-poeira e luz vaporosa
escuro-eyed
uma tempestade está montando na maré
três anos há hoje
noite misteriosa
a festa real foi feita
poderíamos nós mas para saber
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
esteja em mim como os modos eternal
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá
macia agora a luz do dia

 



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