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short poem

abaixo do helm do guerreiro
os dias hypocritic
bonito
olhe para fora em cima das estrelas, meu amor
ainda treze anos
o sol pisou para baixo de seu throne dourado
mas alas, sonhos justos
sad são que sabem não o amor
uma tempestade está montando na maré
você é meu companheiro
para poder ver cada lado de cada pergunta
eu vi os archangels em minha maçã-árvore última noite

 



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