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love poetry

la dame, votre coeur s'est tournée vers la poussière
puisque, si vous vous teniez prêt mon côté aujourd'hui
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
bruits qui tâchent de déchirer
j'ai hérité le désert parce que mon âme est assoiffée
je dois dire bonne nuit
mais alas, rêves justes

 



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