Here are the roses from my burnt wings
they should grow on you so much
like seven full moons flowing down the red hills of silent desires
Could you drink it?
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A Verdade das Montanhas
A Verdade tão vasta das montanhas sobe e sopra e clama dentro da minha Respiração Verdade de ventos abertos no Coração com Ideia-de-Infin...
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Maybe birds dream within my Desiring Freedom and cross everything the closures of gardens, hearts, and manuscripts
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