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suicide poetry

porque são as coisas que não têm nenhuma morte
em algum lugar eu li um tale estranho, velho, oxidado
quando você vier hoje à noite
não seja falso
eu sobre-tinha preparado o evento
três dias eu ouvi-os afligir-se quando eu coloco absolutamente
cai aqui nenhuma luz
o ar está cheio do alvorecer e da mola
eu vou minha maneira complacently
na terra silenciosa
os dias hypocritic

 



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