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thanksgiving poetry

têm você ouvido
caído assim
cara esposa
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
como águias na elevação ascendente
sol e vento e batida do mar
todo meu amor para meu doce
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
esse companheiro estranho veio em baralhar os pés
mas alas, sonhos justos
dentro desta sepultura humilde um conqueror encontra-se
sobre os rooftops compita as sombras das nuvens

 



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