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footprint poem

il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
robuste, humble-abeille de somnoler
je ne prie pas pour la paix
vous dites que vous m'aimez
s'il
je suis le vent qui hésite
un ciel qui n'a jamais connu le soleil, la lune ou les étoiles
j'ai eu une crainte dans ma vie
si le tueur rouge pensent il massacre
voyez l'expérimental
avec les yeux doux et bruns
doux et fort

 



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