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broken heart poem

se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
perguntam-me onde eu estive
em setembro
pouco parque que eu passo completamente
macia weeping
e meu nome é truthful
eu tive um sonho e eu acordei com ele
homem frio stern
o ar é como uma borboleta
o céu
como selvagem, como bruxa-como estranho que a vida deve ser
veja que eu me dou a você
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu

 



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