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teen poem

há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma mão
era não para esse cheiro singular
muito bem, você liberais
teria mesmo seu gracejo
antes do saint de bronze solemn
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
minha alma vai clad em coisas gorgeous
mil anos silenciosos há
eu sou uma mulher
sadly falando
um por um, como sae de uma árvore

 



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