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elements of poetry

un orage monte sur la marée
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé
peut-ętre ce n'est aucune matičre que vous ętes morte
foncé-eyed
j'ai jeté mon âme ŕ l'air comme un vol de faucon
le soleil est vers le haut
comme je me trouve couvert dedans, examiné dedans
pensées par ma tęte
cette année
il y a une ville, builded par aucune main

 



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