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poem for dad

do assoalho ao teto
escute
desde que eu senti o sentido da morte
cidade que nĂŁo Ă© uma cidade
com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coração da pedra
eu sou o vento que wavers
flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
a luz retirada
melancolia, azul era
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
a terra mantem algum ir da vibração

 



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