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suicide poem

eu estou cantando-lhe
havia três no prado pelo ribeiro
algum queixou-se ao mestre
rode-me para baixo pelo prado
os prayers brancos pequenos
em todas as coisas não faladas de
em seus braços estava o prazer imóvel
receoso não mais, eu digo
não do mundo largo do todo
evidenciado no glimmer em seus olhos

 



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