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suicide poem

eu sou uma mulher
veja, desta moeda falsa dele
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
aflija-se năo para o invisível
burly, humble-abelha aplanar
agora que eu lhe esfriei
sob a lua da colheita
desolado e solitário
o que nós fará agora
acima dos prados ricos com milho
no alvorecer, disse
uma vez este turf macio

 



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