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father poem

peut-être
aucune proie ne suis moi des pensées faibles
peu de parc que je traverse
à l'aube, il a dit
je fais ma monture, mais personne ne sait
son visage est juste et lisse et bon
oiseaux contre le vent d'avril
comment j'aidez vers la droite le monde qui tourne mal
je vous chante
la lumière retirée

 



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