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suicide poetry

la nuit passée la pleine lune a étendu un tissu de blanc
le roulement triste du tambour insonorisé a le battement
je ne puis pas toujours sentir son greatness
elle boite avec stopper le pas douloureux
ma douleur, quand elle est ici avec moi
tristes sont ils qui savent pas l'amour
êtes vous vivant?

 



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