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pumpkin poem

o prado estava rastejando
era nĂŁo para esse cheiro singular
eu sou cansado de ser amargo e cansado de ser sábio
através do peito aching da terra larga
eu detestei-o
o mais saddest do ano
eighty anos passaram, e mais
um pensamento doce solemn
qual se mantem
faça os meninos e as meninas vão ainda
tudo dentro e tudo sem mim

 



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