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math poem

deixe-me ser sad
o mestre de destinies humanos é mim
eu penso d esplêndido justo
cidade que não é uma cidade
a senhora, seu coração girou para a poeira
não gire sua cabeça
os dias hypocritic
ruídos que strive rasgar
quem é o corredor nos céus
é frequentemente não assim?
nas manhãs nuvem-cinzentas
alguns dias mais ventosos

 



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