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grandmother poem

para trás, gire para trás
não gire sua cabeça
as máscaras da noite estavam caindo rapidamente
as estrelas caíram do heaven
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
havia três no prado pelo ribeiro
não pendure nenhuma grinalda
fora do profundo e da obscuridade
aflija-se não para o invisível
pássaros de encontro ao vento de abril
diga-me

 



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