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writing poetry

bonito
flores dos bebęs
sadly falando
como águias na elevaçăo ascendente
vivido pelo river-side
eu vi com olhos abertos
quando liberdade de sua altura da montanha
aqueles no superior dizem que o conhecem, terra -- săo liars
na obscuridade e na paz de minha cama final
ainda treze anos
o que era ele os motores ditos
deixe-me ser sad
abaixo do helm do guerreiro
eu vim no deserto porque minha alma é athirst

 



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