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dark poetry

hauts murs et énorme
par de la large le sein faisant mal terre
treize ans toujours
bien que je sois peu en tant que toutes les petites choses
une petite pêche dans le verger s'est développée
je suis fevered
doucement pleurant
par le pont grossier
il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
sans aucun doute je me rappelle toujours
dans toutes les choses non parlées de
le long d'une rive

 



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