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writing poetry

et pain de breaketh pas plus
quand j'étais un garçon ŕ l'université
les montagnes ils sont les gens silencieux
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
la dame, votre coeur s'est tournée vers la poussičre
un, comme part d'un arbre
bonheur
homme froid sévčre

 



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