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christian poem

a escuridão rouba os formulários de todas as rainhas
era muitas e muito um ano há
os dias hypocritic
eu encho este copo
eu estou morrendo
uma vez este turf macio
traga-me a canção macia
tropeçando acima, caindo para baixo
nossos momentos agradáveis voam
na terra silenciosa
a fragrância veio
quando o véu dos olhos for levantado

 



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