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pumpkin poem

eu não posso sempre sentir seu greatness
material da lua
eu era um goddess ere o mármore me encontrou
como uma vela branca
da canção e do sonho para ido sempre
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
quietamente, com reverance, no awe
filhas do tempo
escuro-eyed
levantado dos mortos
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
um pêssego pequeno no pomar cresceu

 



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