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black poetry

son gris bascule toujours la tour au-dessus de la mer
ma mère m'a enseigné que chaque nuit
je suis dans l'amour avec les endroits prévoyants élevés
je sais ce que vous allez dire
quand j'ai regardé dans vos yeux
ce qui je vous doivent
pensées par ma tête
avec le rouge de sang de lèvres et le coeur de la pierre
quelque part j'ai lu un conte étrange, vieux, rouillé

 



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