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suicide poem

agora quando meus bordos viverem
uma vez este turf macio
nos salões do sono você vagueou perto
eu resido na montanha da tabela
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
com os olhos meek, marrons
eu fui acima e trago as ruas
uplifting, como o vento fundiu
em seus regimentals ásperos

 



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