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angel poem

o dia é feito
acima de e para baixo vai
e nse
conseqüentemente eu não posso
em e sobre
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
burly, humble-abelha aplanar
um com você
há uns ganhos para todas nossas perdas
última meia-noite
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma mão
porque então, a obrigação nós vê?
eu estou morrendo

 



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