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brother poem

short et doux, et nous sommes arrivés à la fin de lui
sans aucun doute je me rappelle toujours
les jours hypocrites
tressé et tissé
comme des aigles sur la haute haute
le soleil a fait un pas vers le bas de son trône d'or
souffleur de verre de temps
au-dessus d'elles toutes, regardant vers le bas
aucune proie ne suis moi des pensées faibles

 



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