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slam poetry

entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
irmão, eu sou fogo
sol e vento e batida do mar
havia três no prado pelo ribeiro
as verdades terríveis estes sejam
uma milha atrás
gloom
sumário em uma noite do vôo
quando eu estive escutar, discreetly dumb
vinho velho a beber
eu amo minha vida, mas não demasiado bem
deixe-me ser sad
eighty anos passaram, e mais

 



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