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suicide poem

n'accrochez aucune guirlande
il n'y a aucune bande, toutefois observé et tendu
ne soyez pas faux
j'aime mon heure de vent et de lumière
enveloppez la terre par temps nuageux
vous pensez, mon garçon, quand je mets mes bras autour de vous
un orage monte sur la marée
descendu à l'aube des collines windless
il aurait même sa plaisanterie
l'obscurité

 



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