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suicide poem

sombras voadas que varrem perto
minha alma Ă© um campo ploughed escuro
velas que toppling lateralmente em umas latas do tomate
para trás, gire para trás
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
havia trĂŞs no prado pelo ribeiro
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
para entĂŁo without
o prado estava rastejando
o sol está acima
tem um espaço livre, loveliness vento-protegido

 



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