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footprint poem

a agonia de ter demasiado poder
mulher boa
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
mas alas, sonhos justos
travails da terra
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
minha alma vai clad em coisas gorgeous
nós colocamos
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu

 



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