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best friend poem

esse ano
há uma hora do descanso calmo
escuro-eyed
sono, irmão cinzento da morte
para poder ver cada lado de cada pergunta
esta bacia de prata antiga de meus
porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
as estrelas caíram do heaven
quando liberdade de sua altura da montanha
eu sei o que você está indo dizer

 



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