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thanksgiving poetry

musing, entre o por do sol e a obscuridade
teria mesmo seu gracejo
flores dos bebês
não esteja irritado com mim
escute
doce e forte
não permaneça não mais
quando liberdade de sua altura da montanha
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
gloom
eu não posso sempre sentir seu greatness

 



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