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death poetry

uma vez este turf macio
acima deles todos, olhando para baixo
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
burly, humble-abelha aplanar
você é bonito e desvanecido
o mais saddest do ano
veio fazer exame de me pela mão
através do peito aching da terra larga
eu encho este copo
deus

 



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