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teenage love poem

la neige chuchote au sujet de moi
il y a une ville, builded par aucune main
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
elle était une beauté en jours
j'ai dit
un, comme part d'un arbre
leurs beaux cheveux
remuez
l'aube était vert pomme
faible-envolée est la chanson
le maître des destins humains suis moi
mon âme disparaît plaquée dans des choses magnifiques
la terre garde aller de vibration

 



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