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happy birthday poem

eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
as canções antigas
pouca porta foi alcançada no último
quietamente, com reverance, no awe
em setembro
dentro desta sepultura humilde um conqueror encontra-se
e enquanto nós andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
minha alma vai clad em coisas gorgeous
eu ando abaixo os trajetos do jardim

 



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