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child poetry

a escuridão rola para cima
e assim vai
o prado estava rastejando
quando os mar-ventos perfuraram nossos solitudes
um history muito notável isto é
filhas do tempo
levantado dos mortos
pouca porta foi alcançada no último
com alegria e maravilha
acima deles todos, olhando para baixo
nunca em toda minha vida
que possibilidade spiteful rouba unawares

 



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