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family poetry

você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
eu tive um sonho e eu acordei com ele
ouviu as crianças jogar no sol
o dia é feito
vivido pelo river-side
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
nós quebramos o vidro cujo vinho sacred
pôde tê-lo sabido na mola mais adiantada
gloom
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita

 



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