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erotic poem

un poèt, ayant pris le frein outre de sa langue
bruits qui tâchent de déchirer
son visage est juste et lisse et bon
l'obscurité roule vers le haut
un ciel qui n'a jamais connu le soleil, la lune ou les étoiles
améliorez que le granit
o juste et stately bonne, dont les yeux
c'est la chanson de la jeunesse
il y a trois ans d'aujourd'hui

 



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