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suicide poetry

a o que uma mulher a comparará beloved
eu sou o vento que wavers
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
uma palavra do vôo de aqui e lá
é verdadeiro que você diz que os deuses lhe são mais uso do que fairies
o mistério o mais escuro, o mais estranho
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
eu estive pelo casement aberto
mas alas, sonhos justos
por muito tempo há, no moonlight novo

 



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