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broken heart poem

l'odeur du s'est levée si faux, les épines si vraies
allés sont les trois, ces soeurs rares
le jour est fait
les chansons antiques
il y a trois ans d'aujourd'hui
en septembre
leurs beaux cheveux
le merriment sans fin et idiot des étoiles
vers l'arrière, tournez vers l'arrière
un mot de vol d'ici et là
de nos endroits cachés
la agonie d'avoir trop de puissance

 



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