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sorry poem

je suis le vent qui hésite
ils dans le rassemblement d'obscurité et demandent
par le pont grossier
les vieilles chansons
les jours endeared à chaque MUSE
j'ai jeté mon âme à l'air comme un vol de faucon
vieux vin à boire
observer toute la journée la vague bleue se courber et se casser
un stylo d'acier

 



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