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sad poetry

j'ai vu que vous hunched et tremblant sur les pierres
foncé-eyed
dans pouvez
souvent je pense Ă  la belle ville
indéfiniment
bougies se renversant en longueur dans des bidons de tomate
quand vous venez ce soir
une petite pêche dans le verger s'est développée
la noblesse de la mort encore
roulez-moi vers le bas par le pré

 



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