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suicide poetry

burly, humble-abelha aplanar
se eu morrer, pense somente disto de mim
você pensa, meu menino, quando eu enrolo meus braços em você
diz de épocas velhas boas
não há nenhum escape pelo rio
agora que eu lhe esfriei
quando o vento trabalhar de encontro a nós na obscuridade
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas

 



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