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sad poetry

a criança que jogou afastado a folha após a folha
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
agora que eu lhe esfriei
fora de mim unworthy e desconhecido
o pitiful pequeno, desgastado, caras rir
eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
a senhora, seu coração girou para a poeira

 



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