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friend poem

mas alas, sonhos justos
e enquanto nós andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
a neve sussurra sobre mim
temos nós nenhum shame?
simplicity
acima deles todos, olhando para baixo
eu nunca soube que a terra teve assim muito ouro
qual eu desejo observar
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
os prayers brancos pequenos

 



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