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teen poems

ma mère me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée
tressé et tissé
j'aime les vieilles configurations melodious
ils ont jeté une pierre, vous ont jeté une pierre
hors du profond et de l'obscurité
donc je ne puis pas
c'est l'arsenal
je suis fevered
elle a dit
elle était une beauté en jours
stand ici par mon côté

 



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