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i miss you poem

à ce qui une femme la comparera aimée
la nuit est foncée, et les vents d'hiver
je réside à la montagne de table
comme égaliser tombe
faites les garçons et les filles vont toujours
puisque j'ai senti le sens de la mort
y a il quiconque là
je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
mon âme disparaît plaquée dans des choses magnifiques

 



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