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family poetry

vocę é bonito e desvanecido
sob uma árvore espalhando da castanha
a criança que jogou afastado a folha após a folha
eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe
temos nós nenhum shame?
eu sou cansado de ser amargo e cansado de ser sábio
levantado dos mortos

 



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