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child poem

eu não posso dizê-lo agora
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
eu estou morrendo
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
jogaram uma pedra, você jogaram uma pedra
quando uma ação for feita para a liberdade
em uma câmara velha iluminou-se macia
alguns dias mais ventosos

 



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