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poem for dad

les jours hypocrites
les jours endeared Ă  chaque MUSE
j'ai hérité le désert parce que mon âme est assoiffée
et ils marchaient toujours dessus
de nos endroits cachés
gros mâles noirs dans une salle de vin-baril
comme égaliser tombe
ma mère me tortille des roses humides avec la rosée

 



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