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math poem

esta é a canção da juventude
quando eu for para trás ligar à terra
cidade que não é uma cidade
nós que estiveram
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe
o movimento do seu corpo é como a música
os dias melancólicos vieram
esteja em mim como os modos eternal
mas eu não posso lê-lo agora
os prayers brancos pequenos
sua cara é justa e lisa e fina

 



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