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prose poetry

glooms dos viv-carvalhos
aflija-se não para o invisível
nós não éramos muitos
limps com parar o ritmo doloroso
eu sou cansado de ser amargo e cansado de ser sábio
antes do saint de bronze solemn
um com você
são você acordado?
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas

 



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