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funny poem

la agonie d'avoir trop de puissance
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
maintenant tandis que mes lèvres vivent
pourrions nous mais savoir
le soleil est vers le haut
je sais pas oĂą
bougies se renversant en longueur dans des bidons de tomate
elle connaît un dégagement bon marché
le roulement triste du tambour insonorisé a le battement
quand j'étais a enfoncé à Londres
la neige chuchote au sujet de moi

 



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