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suicide poetry

apportez-moi la chanson douce
qui aime la pluie
l'obscurité roule vers le haut
ces yeux noirs i une fois ainsi félicité
les jours mélancoliques sont venus
un, comme part d'un arbre
j'ai vu les étoiles les plus fières
dans sa tente gardée
je suis las d'être amer et las d'être sage
il n'y a aucune bande, toutefois observé et tendu

 



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