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mother poem

eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
dê-me a fome
era não para esse cheiro singular
evidenciado no glimmer em seus olhos
disse
agora quando meus bordos viverem
há um país completamente do vinho
trançado e tecido
estourou o vinho feroz
eu fui acima e trago as ruas
renove a visão do prazer
talvez não é nenhuma matéria que você morreu
assim perdido
em todas as coisas não faladas de

 



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