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prose poetry

não seja falso
a algum os deuses gordos
os dias hypocritic
acima deles todos, olhando para baixo
são você vivo?
a festa real foi feita
uma vez este turf macio
nas manhãs nuvem-cinzentas
eu tive um medo em minha vida
entre o fumo e a névoa de uma tarde de dezembro
encontra-se aqui uma senhora a mais bonita
do assoalho ao teto
ao amante passionate
eu sou uma mulher

 



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