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death poetry

hauts murs et énorme
dans la terre silencieuse
j'ai hérité le désert parce que mon âme est assoiffée
je suis allé à travers les rues
près d'un champ en détresse
et ainsi elle va
le pré rampait
améliorez que le granit
dernier minuit
babylon -- où je vais rêver
l'odeur du s'est levée si faux, les épines si vraies
il y a des gains pour toutes nos pertes
a arqué l'inondation

 



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