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sad poem

je l'aime
je suis une femme
tressé et tissé
vous a fait entendent parler jamais
en ce moment
je meurs
beau
quatre-vingts ans ont passé, et plus
en tant qu'elle
je remplis cette tasse
ce compagnon étrange est venu sur brouiller des pieds
et ainsi elle va
la fille, art de thou viennent pour mourir

 



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