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birthday poetry

eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
e enquanto nós andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
era o outono do ano
um por um, como sae de uma árvore
para então without
o amor foi cantado mil maneiras
era não para esse cheiro singular
mundo que muda sob minha mão

 



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