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broken heart poem

havia um momento em anos anteriores
talvez
a algum os deuses gordos
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho
porque
eu sei não onde
eu moldei o mundo
como nivelar cai
existir da cisne
eu agito meu cabelo no vento da manhã
esta é a canção da juventude
embora repine do amor, e chafe da razão
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
nas manhãs nuvem-cinzentas

 



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