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acrostic poem

todos aqueles tesouros que se encontram
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
ainda treze anos
o que era ele os motores ditos
baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
a fragrância veio
para vir assim logo a isto imaginou a obscuridade
eu quero saber onde vocĂŞ vive
este Ă© o arsenal
os prayers brancos pequenos

 



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