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child poetry

f4-lo vêem sempre um jacaré
apenas como meus dedos nestas chaves
eu sou uma mulher
eu olhei em cima do céu glorious
talvez
lá pela janela na casa velha
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
abaixo do helm do guerreiro
não pendure nenhuma grinalda
completamente dos rasgos
a algum os deuses gordos
até sua janela da câmara

 



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