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gothic poetry

je me demande parfois s'il est vraiment vrai
il parle pas bien
dépassement par les murs blottis et laids
il n'y a aucune bande, toutefois observé et tendu
pourquoi
l'aube était vert pomme
parmi la fumée et le brouillard d'un après-midi de décembre
splendide et terrible votre amour

 



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