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suicide poetry

les ombres des bateaux
l'odeur du s'est levée si faux, les épines si vraies
dans les halls du sommeil vous avez erré près
la dame, votre coeur s'est tournée vers la poussière
un poèt, ayant pris le frein outre de sa langue
la fille, art de thou viennent pour mourir

 



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