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short poem

dê-me a fome
era o outono do ano
tem um espaço livre, loveliness vento-protegido
mundo que muda sob minha mão
com vermelho do sangue dos bordos e coração da pedra
eu gosto d
eu tenho que dizer good-night
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
a senhora, seu coração girou para a poeira

 



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