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gothic poetry

j'au-dessus-avais préparé l'événement
se déclenchant vers le haut, tombant vers le bas
mon âme est un champ labouré foncé
beau
j'aime les vieilles configurations melodious
dans ma main je me tiens
vous entendez la pluie?
bonheur
levé des morts
si je meurs, pensez seulement ceci à moi
j'ai vu que vous hunched et tremblant sur les pierres

 



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