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sad love poem

não pendure nenhuma grinalda
ido antes de nós
sol e vento e batida do mar
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
que possibilidade spiteful rouba unawares
short e doce, e nós viemos à extremidade dela
doce e forte
eu sou uma mulher
assim perdido
antes do saint de bronze solemn
como um homem despido mim vai

 



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