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sad poem

pourrions nous mais savoir
environ porté plainte au maître
vous a fait entendent parler jamais
les nuances de la nuit tombaient rapidement
se reposer dans son culbuteur attendant votre thé
mon âme disparaît plaquée dans des choses magnifiques
dites-moi moins ou dites-moi davantage
tous apaisent le long du potomac

 



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