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mom poem

não esteja irritado com mim
se eu for muito certo
limps com parar o ritmo doloroso
eu sei o que você está indo dizer
não do mundo largo do todo
todos quiet ao longo do potomac
havia um strangeness em seus bordos
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
porque o faça sempre carrinho que tirita lá
não gire sua cabeça
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
através do peito aching da terra larga

 



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