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poetry for kid

foncé-eyed
simplement parlant
course haut-soutenue
maintenant pour un combat vif et gai
quand la nuit dérive le long des rues de la ville
je dois dire bonne nuit
j'aime ma vie, mais pas trop bien
roses et or
parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
un stylo d'acier
là par la fenêtre dans la vieille maison

 



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