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gothic poetry

não há nenhum rebanho, porém prestado atenção e tendido
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
são você acordado?
caras bonitas, tragical
quando eu for para trás ligar à terra
deixe-nos plantar
a mulher faltou-me muito, como você se chama me, chamada
eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe
baixo! ' tis um a noite do gala
a noite é escura, e os ventos do inverno
a luz retirada
o único punho clenched levantado e apronta-se
deus

 



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