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math poem

quand le vent fonctionne contre nous dans l'obscurité
je meurs
c'est l'arsenal
bien que repine d'amour, et frottement de raison
tranquillement, avec le reverance, dans la crainte
avec le rouge de sang de lèvres et le coeur de la pierre
chère épouse
pourquoi
s'il
je fais ma monture, mais personne ne sait
oiseaux contre le vent d'avril

 



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