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narrative poetry

dépassement par les murs blottis et laids
la foudre a clignoté, et s'est soulevée
je secoue mes cheveux dans le vent du matin
je me suis tenu prêt le tissu pour rideaux ouvert
j'ai entendu le vent toute la journée
la fille, art de thou viennent pour mourir
je tiens votre coeur
truely
il aurait même sa plaisanterie

 



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