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dark poetry

minha alma vai clad em coisas gorgeous
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
diz de épocas velhas boas
pouco parque que eu passo completamente
homem frio stern
com seu cabelo que flaying descontroladamente
dentro desta sepultura humilde um conqueror encontra-se
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho

 



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