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daughter poem

se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
para vestir o pensamento impetuoso
diz de épocas velhas boas
eu sou o vento que wavers
se eu souber o narrow uma prisão é amor
eu ganhei a raça
dentro de minha mão eu prendo
passagem através das paredes huddled e feias
era muitas e muito um ano há
deixe-me mover-se lentamente através da rua
teria mesmo seu gracejo

 



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