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sad poetry

como selvagem, como bruxa-como estranho que a vida deve ser
era uma oysterman novo alto
macia weeping
caído assim
quando a noite drifts ao longo das ruas da cidade
quem ama a chuva
são você acordado?
dê-me
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
temos nós nenhum shame?

 



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