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baby shower poem

o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
a noite era preta e drear
eu não posso dizê-lo agora
para trás, gire para trás
apenas agora
eu estive
eu moldei o mundo
há três maneiras em que os homens fazem exame
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer
deus

 



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