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death poetry

faites les garçons et les filles vont toujours
roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré
il y avait de trois dans le pré par le ruisseau
y a il quiconque là
ne restez pas plus
doux et fort
complètement des larmes
soudainement, hors des manières foncées et feuillues
dans la terre silencieuse
frère, je suis le feu
vous a fait entendent parler jamais

 



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