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teenage love poem

o oeste velho, o tempo velho
com os olhos meek, marrons
ruídos que strive rasgar
última noite a lua cheia colocou um pano do branco
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
os poetas dizem
eu sou o vento que wavers
em e sobre
flores dos bebęs
as sombras colocam ao longo de broadway

 



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