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love poetry chat

tressé et tissé
il y a d'un que ce I par le passé a aimé tellement
le ciel
glooms des vivre-chênes
c'est la chanson de la jeunesse
à l'amoureux passionné
mon fils est mort et je suis aveugle allant
se déclenchant vers le haut, tombant vers le bas
sous un arbre de propagation de châtaigne
pourquoi sont les choses qui n'ont aucune mort
allé avant nous

 



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