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broken heart poem

eu não queimo nenhum incense
ainda seu cinza balança a torre acima do mar
muito bem, você liberais
glooms dos viv-carvalhos
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
trançado e tecido
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá
musing, entre o por do sol e a obscuridade
eu encho este copo

 



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