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dark poetry

elle a entendu les enfants jouer au soleil
je me suis tenu prêt le tissu pour rideaux ouvert
vous dites que vous m'aimez
les vérités terribles ceux-ci soient
de nos endroits cachés
ainsi tombé
behold je, en mon chiffon, gaze et tresse
les drowses pâles de jour sur l'occidental trempent
je la pense splendide juste
glooms des vivre-chênes
j'ai gagné la course

 



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