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dark poetry

se déclenchant vers le haut, tombant vers le bas
avec ses cheveux flaying d'une manière extravagante
les voûtes du pont rouge
elle était beaucoup et beaucoup d'il y a une année
aucune proie ne suis moi des pensées faibles
il n'y avait jamais un bruit près du bois mais d'un
donc je ne puis pas
l'obscurité
êtes vous éveillé?
en matins nuage-gris

 



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