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sad death poem

flores dos bebęs
jogaram uma pedra, vocę jogaram uma pedra
sobre os rooftops compita as sombras das nuvens
se eu souber o narrow uma prisăo é amor
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma măo
alguns dos hurts que vocę se curou
os dias hypocritic
minha măe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
uma vez este turf macio
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
quando o vento trabalhar de encontro a nós na obscuridade

 



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