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poem for dad

um gleam do ouro no gloom e no cinza
doce e forte
deixe-nos expressar nossas paixões mais baixas
nos salões do sono você vagueou perto
bucks pretos gordos em um quarto do vinho-tambor
seu cabelo bonito
têm você andar visto através da vila
alguns dias mais ventosos
fala não bem
três anos há hoje
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays

 



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