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sad death poem

ils peuvent parler de l'amour dans une petite maison
je dois dire bonne nuit
il y a d'un que ce I par le passé a aimé tellement
ville qui n'est pas une ville
vous faites ne pas entendre
exprimons nos passions plus basses
behold je, en mon chiffon, gaze et tresse
allé avant nous
quand j'ai regardé dans vos yeux
gros mâles noirs dans une salle de vin-baril

 



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