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acrostic poem

teria mesmo seu gracejo
eu ganhei a raça
fora da janela um mar de árvores verdes
porque o faça sempre carrinho que tirita lá
o mais saddest do ano
pela costa, pelo mar
abaixo de minha janela em uma rua da cidade
deixe-nos piedade aqueles de que seja melhor fora do que nós são
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte

 



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