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def poetry jam

tous ces trésors qui se trouvent
roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré
dites-moi pas
fleur blanche de mousse, fleur rouge de flamme
l'odeur du s'est levée si faux, les épines si vraies
foncé-eyed
il parle pas bien
ma mère m'a enseigné que chaque nuit

 



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