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son poem

são idos os três, aquelas irmãs raras
e pão do breaketh mais
faça exame de meus bracelets
ido antes de nós
ame-me no último, ou se você não
a terra mantem algum ir da vibração
não pendure nenhuma grinalda
uma sombra cinzenta fina na borda do pensamento
a mulher faltou-me muito, como você se chama me, chamada

 



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