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sad poetry

a o que uma mulher a comparará beloved
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
eu não posso sempre sentir seu greatness
fora de mim unworthy e desconhecido
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
acima de e para baixo vai
três dias eu ouvi-os afligir-se quando eu coloco absolutamente
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite

 



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