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mother daughter poem

não seja falso
quem é o corredor nos céus
cara esposa
quem estará nomeando o vento
acima dos prados ricos com milho
musing, entre o por do sol e a obscuridade
seu cabelo bonito
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
há uma cidade, builded por nenhuma mão
cidade que não é uma cidade
meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
para trás, gire para trás

 



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