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angel poem

a escuridăo rola para cima
há uma hora do descanso calmo
para entăo without
limps com parar o ritmo doloroso
aqueles olhos pretos i elogiado uma vez assim
ao lado de um campo stricken
eu fui acima e trago as ruas
ido antes de nós
em uma câmara velha iluminou-se macia
nas manhăs nuvem-cinzentas
eu detestei-o

 



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