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teen poetry

lá pela janela na casa velha
ao longo de um river-side
em números mournful
eu prendo seu coração
fala não bem
se o slayer vermelho pensar slays
tempestade
através do peito aching da terra larga
eu amo as configurações melodious velhas
eu faço minha saia, mas ninguém sabe
dê-me
trançado e tecido
minha mãe twines me as rosas molhadas com orvalho

 



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