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teenage love poem

o ar é como uma borboleta
um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
última meia-noite
eu sou velho e cego
cante-o outra vez à canção cantado
seu cabelo bonito
e pão do breaketh mais
eu moldei o mundo
quietamente, com reverance, no awe
nós que estiveram
a senhora, seu coração girou para a poeira

 



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