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mother poem

a agonia de ter demasiado poder
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
fraco-é voada a canção
o amor foi cantado mil maneiras
pensamentos através de minha cabeça
eu quero saber às vezes se for realmente verdadeiro
o movimento do seu corpo é como a música
havia três no prado pelo ribeiro
eu vi com olhos abertos
o doce com fern e levantou-se
você é bonito e desvanecido

 



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