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suicide poem

flor branca da espuma, flor vermelha da flama
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
diz de épocas velhas boas
através do peito aching da terra larga
olhar além
temos nós nenhum shame?
a escuridão
eu sou velho e cego
os drowses pálidos do dia no ocidental embebem
o corpo pode confinar

 



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