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dark poetry

mon âme est un champ labouré foncé
les jours endeared à chaque MUSE
bien que repine d'amour, et frottement de raison
tranquillement, avec le reverance, dans la crainte
ont eu lui et I mais réuni
et pendant que nous marchions l'herbe a été faiblement remuée
behold je, en mon chiffon, gaze et tresse
exister de cygne
bonheur
dites-moi
leurs beaux cheveux

 



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