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slam poetry

o ar é como uma borboleta
o prado estava rastejando
estes sejam
mas alas, sonhos justos
da canção e do sonho para ido sempre
olhe para fora em cima das estrelas, meu amor
escuro-eyed
antes do saint de bronze solemn
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
sentar-se em seu balancim que espera seu chá
ao longo de um river-side

 



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