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suicide poem

você é meu companheiro
sono doce em suas sepulturas humble
não gire sua cabeça
eu gosto d
na esfera
de encontro à flama verde da hawthorn-árvore
eu amo roubar por algum tempo afastado
eu não queimo nenhum incense
embora eu sou pouco como todas as coisas pequenas
o único punho clenched levantado e apronta-se

 



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