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grandma poem

eu estou morrendo
escute o mar soando
mas eu não posso lê-lo agora
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
para poder ver cada lado de cada pergunta
quando eu era um menino na faculdade
eu não pray para a paz
tem um espaço livre, loveliness vento-protegido
ao lado de um campo stricken

 



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