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angel poem

burly, humble-abelha aplanar
agora que eu lhe esfriei
você está desobstruído
deixe-nos expressar nossas paixões mais baixas
eu estou no tempo cinzento frio
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
nos salões do sono você vagueou perto
com os olhos meek, marrons
era o outono do ano
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
a filha, arte do thou vem morrer

 



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