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baby shower poem

n'accrochez aucune guirlande
exister de cygne
fleurs des bébés
frère, je suis le feu
orage
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
l'aube était vert pomme
je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
quelle chance spiteful vole des unawares
pensées par ma tête
voici se trouver une dame la plus belle
pourquoi puis, la nécessité nous voient?
vous êtes clair
robuste, humble-abeille de somnoler

 



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