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dark poetry

simplicity
a escuridăo rola para cima
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
o merriment infinito, foolish das estrelas
eu estou no tempo cinzento frio
talvez năo é nenhuma matéria que vocę morreu
uma milha atrás
abaixo do helm do guerreiro
desolado e solitário

 



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