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child poetry

sob uma árvore espalhando da castanha
eu fui acima e trago as ruas
ame-me no último, ou se você não
e enquanto nós andamos a grama foi agitada fraca
frequentemente eu penso da cidade bonita
de nossos lugares escondidos
quem é o corredor nos céus
limps com parar o ritmo doloroso
escuro-eyed

 



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