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dark poetry

le maître des destins humains suis moi
il parle pas bien
souvent je pense à la belle ville
allés sont les trois, ces soeurs rares
il y avait de trois dans le pré par le ruisseau
avec le coucher du soleil
peu de parc que je traverse
démontré dans la lueur vacillante dans vos yeux
ce qui nous fera maintenant
ami, dont le sourire est venu pour être
éliminer, luttant vainly

 



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